Two faces of an angel
by s2lou
Summary: Three years after her father's death, six months after Kaito told her he was Kid, a few months of Officer Nakamori Aoko's life. Her feelings confronted to his. And eventually, maybe... summaries always suck. first fanfic ever so please review! chap 14 up.
1. the way to tell her

Inspector Nakamori Aoko was looking up at the sky, and the full moon that shone there.

Around her were shouts and people running, as everyone prepared for Kid's arrival.

At eight o'clock, he would steal the jewel a double-glassed case was protecting for now. She looked at it, through the balcony's window, then went back to her gaze at the moon.

So many things had happened.

"Dad! Dad! Dad, wake up, please!"

She was clenching at her father's hand, tears running down her cheeks and inside her mouth. She could fell their salty, sour taste.

Around the body, policemen were watching their boss's daughter crying over her father's corpse. She cried as if nothing mattered anymore, as if she thought she could die right now because of sadness. None of them knew what to do. It wasn't their role to give orders or to take the initiative. It was Nakamori-kebu's role.

"Aoko," a voice said in her ears. "Aoko, it won't help anything. He's not coming back."

Kaito's face was sad and angry. His hand closed upon Aoko's, forcing her to let go of her father's wrist.

"I'm sorry," he said, taking her in his arms. "I'm sorry."

"But did Kid really kill kebu?" one of the policemen asked another.

"I thought Kid never killed."

"I saw what happened;"

Everybody turned to look at Saguru Hakuba, including Aoko and Kaito.

"What happened, Hakuba-kun?" the former asked, shivering.

Kaito just frowned.

"They were on the roof," Saguru said. "Nakamori-san and Kid. They were fighting."

"Do you mean that Kid killed my…" Aoko's voice broke down, and she began crying again.

"No. No, there was another man. Dressed in black. From the helix, I couldn't quite see his face, but…I saw where his gun pointed to."

He looked at Aoko.

"He wasn't trying to kill your father. He was trying to kill Kid."

Aoko tugged her nose into Kaito's shoulder, wiping her tears against his shirt. She felt his embrace tighten around her, as he repeated so that she was the only one to hear, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything."

"Baka!" she hugged him back. "Even if you had been up there, you couldn't have done anything."

But he could have. He could have.

Knock.

She turned to look at the man who had just opened the window.

"Nakamori-kebu, it's twenty to eight," he said hesitantly. "Maybe you should come inside."

"Kid will arrive exactly on time," she answered. "I'll come five minutes before that."

She heard the window click shut.

The moon was beautiful… just as beautiful as it had been that night, through the sitting room's window.

It was the evening after she had acceded to the grade of a police officer. She was appointed to Kid's heists, just like her father had. At twenty-one, she was one of the youngest police officers in the county. And a female one, which was even more unusual.

She had opened her door, closed it slowly, taken off her coat, advancing in the dark hall. After the lights and noise in the street, her silent and still flat seemed ethereal, ephemeral, as if it would vanish any moment.

She had turned on the light in the kitchen and headed towards her bedroom, brushing past the sitting room.

"Aoko," a voice had said.

'Kaito,' she had thought. 'What is he doing here?'

She had opened the sitting room's door. "K " but she never finished, her hand falling to her side.

It was Kaito. And it wasn't him.

Kaito.

Kid.

Kaito Kid.

It can't be, a part of her mind had thought. It can't be.

But it was.

He had picked up the hat and monocle he had left on the table. "Now you know," he had said calmly.

She hadn't answered.

"You had a right to know. I wanted you to know."

There were a thousand things she could have said. She could've burst into tears, asked him why he had done that, claimed that this kind of joke wasn't funny, or simply thrown herself in his arms and said nothing at all.

But she heard a firm, rational voice speak – her voice.

"Why are you telling me? I could get you under arrest any day."

His lips had twitched into a sarcastic smile, the one she was used to see on Kid's face. So odd to see it on Kaito's now.

"Oh, no, you wouldn't. You could arrest Kaito Kid, but you have no evidence against Kuroba Kaito. Besides-" his voice had deepened suddenly, "you're just like your father, Aoko."

"What about my father?" she had hissed.

"He was a fair, noble man. He never tried to fool, or betray me. We were fighting – but it was a noble fight, a man-to-man fight between he and I. We respected and esteemed each other."

So odd to hear those words in Kaito's mouth.

She swallowed. Hard. "Do you… do you know who killed my father?"

He winced, and hesitated before answering. "No. No, I don't."

"He's lying," the rational part of her mind had told her. But at the same time the emotional part was yelling, "How can you be so calm when you just broke my heart!"

He paused before saying, "Aoko… as a police officer and my childhood friend, you would've uncovered it one day or other. Now, you should… you should forget about Kuroba Kaito. I'm a thief… a phantom… and you are a police officer, Nakamori-kebu…"

He opened the window and stared at the moonlit terrace. He looked at her over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I couldn't save your father."

He went out. "Kaito!" Aoko shouted, and ran after him.

He was gone. She could see the black shape of his handglider against the full moon.

Abandoned on the balcony was a dark, red rose.

"Kid!"

As one of her policemen shouted this, Aoko instantly looked up.

A white handglider was circling above the building.

"Here you are," she mumbled for herself.

She ran inside, shouting orders.


	2. His point

Kid landed swiftly on the building's roof. He was fairly sure everybody inside knew he was there. Through the large windows, he had seen policemen running around and shouting.

He had noticed Aoko, too. She had been on the terrace, while he approached the building. She had looked up when someone had yelled his name, and for a moment their eyes had met in the distance. Then she had run inside, shouting after her men.

He looked around. This was a roof like any other roof. Like the roof where they – Kaito Kid and Officer Nakamori Aoko – had met for the first time.

_The moonlight was shimmering against the building windows. He liked the wind rushing through his face and his white cloak. He could have gone a long moment ago, gone flying away in the black sky, never caught up. The gem was in his hands, the police inside was still running for him, but he didn't go._

_He waited._

_Footsteps slammed in the staircase, and the roof's door was banged open. She stopped, breathlessly watching his back._

"_What a pleasant evening, Nakamori-kebu," he said, perfectly measuring the note of irony in his voice._

_She said nothing. He turned his head a little, in order to look at her over his shoulder. She was staring at him, glaring at him._

_(It was the first time she was faced with him so closely, in full light, even if it was the moon's. For the first time, she felt she could see through him clearly. For the first time, there were no secrets between them, no mysteries, no lies._

_There was just anger. And sorrow. And tiredness._

_He was a thief, she was a police officer…_

_And that was it._

_At this moment she understood that they weren't the teenagers they used to be when in high school, the ones that thought they had life before them and who seemed so far-away, lost behind a shade of lies, and tears, and work, and… time. Time that had elapsed, loosing them on the way. Yet it still was difficult to be sure of, to be persuaded it wasn't just a dream, even through the years._

_A raw of violent feelings was bursting in her mind._

_But this, of course, he couldn't know.)_

_He brought a sarcastic smile onto Poker Face, the smile he used to bestow at Ginzo Nakamori. For an obscure reason, it was much more difficult to maintain it now, facing with his daughter._

"_I wonder whether you'll be as good an officer as your father," he said lightly._

_She spoke then. It had been ages, it seemed, since he had last heard her voice, her voice now regretful, but steady. He had to swallow to keep Poker Face still._

'_I deciphered your message. Besides, I'll be a better one."_

_He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "And why is that?"_

"_Because he never could catch you."_

"_And you will?" he smirked politely, doubtfully._

_She answered with a look, and it was clear enough._

_Loud footsteps echoed in the staircase. Neither of them moved. They both knew that over thirty policemen were running up to the roof, following Nakamori-kebu._

_The door was slammed open once more. The task force, however, found the roof empty, but for their superior, standing alone on it, her eyes lifted up to the sky where a white handglider was fading out._

_There was a red rose on the edge of the building._

Memories, memories, memories. It had happened six months before. And now, once again, he was waiting.

A trick. A very simple one, really. He had exploited it a hundred times over with the late Officer Nakamori and the Kid Force. The only one who ever worked it out was Kudo Shinichi, but back then their relationship wasn't quite the same than it was now. Even though they still were rivals (those things just never changed), in _normal_ life – as far as it could be called normal – they were kinda friends… kinda… well… never mind.

Well, yes, a very simple trick.

He grinned at the thud of footsteps in the staircase.

The time seemed to slow down as he tasted the precious feeling of risk in this ephemeral instant.

The door was opened once again.

The curtain was opening once again.

His grin widened as over forty policemen invaded the roof where he was waiting once again.

He would always be waiting.

Over and over again.


	3. In the street

Author's note: Okay, two things I neglected to say for the two first chapters… First, the usual disclaimer-I-don't-own-Magic-Kaito-or-Detective-Conan thing (but you had already figured that out), and, second, I'm not English. I'm French. And still young, thank you very much, which probably accounts for the lack of vocabulary, grammar, syntaxes and meaning in general.

Back to the story…

In the street

The trio Kudo, Hattori and Kuroba was rather an unusual one.

Two of them were detectives, the third was a thief.

They were both rivals and friends, and Kudo and Kuroba were so alike one another they could have been siblings.

Each of them had such a full temper that their arguments over whose-model-was-the-best were dates in history.

One often wondered how the hell they managed to bear each other, but the fact was that they did. More or less.

Their love stories weren't better. Hattori Heiji had refused to realize how much he was in love with his childhood friend Kazuha Toyama for over seventeen years before ending up kissing her unexpectedly three months ago. Kudo Shinichi had been perfectly aware of his love for Mouri Ran but his declaration had been somewhat… retarded for a time. Well… being changed into a seven-year-old hadn't helped.

As for Kaito… that was another problem. The one and only woman he would ever think as the love of his life was very, _very_ eager as to get him under arrest.

"Guys…" he said as his two friends were arguing _again_ over their which-of-Sherlock-or-Ellery-was-the-best-blah-blah, "would you_ please_ turn the volume down? People's looking at you."

This wasn't exactly true. Most of the passer-bys in the street were too busy to pay any attention to the two arguing and extremely noisy young men. Neither did the two arguing and extremely noisy young men pay any attention to the passer-bys.

Anyway–

"Shut up or I'll bury you under a ton of confetti…"

No answer whatsoever – keep on…

"Shut up or I'll steal every jewel in the country…"

'Well, I will anyway,' he thought confusedly. Not that it changed anything.

"SHUT UP OR ONE OF YOU IS GONNA BE TURNED INTO A KID AGAIN AND THE OTHER'LL SEE HIS STUPID CAP FLUSED DOWN THE TOILETS!"

It was rather a long sentence to be said in one breath like he had meant it to be, but it worked _quite _nicely.

They broke off.

They glared.

He shrugged.

"Well, Holmes…"

"Well, Queen…"

"I said SHUT UP!"

They glared some more.

'Change the subject," he thought hurriedly. "Quick... change…"

"Erm… Queen… I mean, Hattori, what were you saying about Kazuha-chan and you before Kudo began boasting over Holmes again?"

"I wasn't…" Shinichi began, then cut off.

Hattori's gaze was dangerously wandering back and forth between his two exactly alike friends. They had already seen those odd looks onto his usually arrogant features… when he was talking to Kazuha. It was… shyness? Kaito checked himself, preparing to laugh.

"We got mpheged."

"What?"

"We got enphemged."

"_What?_"

"Speak louder, Hattori," Kudo said calmly.

'I SAID WE GOT ENGAGED!" Heiji shouted so loud everybody two miles away could hear him.

"Is that what you're looking so desperate about?" Kaito asked. Shinichi had to bit his lip no to chuckle, but he frowned when the thief then turned to him.

"Hey, Kudo, what about you and," he switched his voice to Conan's, "_Ran-neechan_?"

"I'm seeing her tonight. What about _you_, Kuroba?" Shinichi shot back, and was glad to see Poker Face suddenly coming up. That usually meant he was emotionally involved.

"Let's say that I'm not very much into matrimony right now," the magician said lightly. "Besides, I have a date tonight. With a jewel. Called Blue Dawn. Why they always assign weird names to gems, for that matter, is beyond me."

"No sign from a Blue Child?" Heiji asked innocently.

"Yeah, she'll be there tonight." A sarcastic smile curled his lips, like a wolf's. "At least, if these so-called police experts deciphered the message I sent them yesterday."

"Oh, you mean this one?" Kudo asked, pointing at the rather crumpled newspaper he had hold in his hand all the while. "Seems that you haven't been working a lot on this, Kuroba." He read out,

"_Don't you dare contradict a phantom._

_But on that night try to keep me from stealing_

_The lonely cock who's giving at random_

_The blue melancholy of his singing."_

Kudo grinned. "Now you've done better than that."

Kaito shrugged. What if he liked writing out riddle-like enigmas? None of a detective's business. To trick the police expert was part of the mockery.

"Existential fun," he said. "Takes them two days to understand them."

"Took me two minutes."

Kuroba shot him a sharp glance. "I'd dearly love to hear about that."

"Elementary," Shinichi said, switching to his great-meitantei-Kudo-Shinichi mode. "The first line – the phantom represents both midnight and Halloween, which, surprisingly, happens to be today. The second line confirms this – that night, I mean. Which gives us the date and time of the heist. Now the second two – they're tougher. Of course, the "cock" is immediately to relate with a wind vane – and there's not many wind vanes that keep a precious gem in its beck. Actually, there's only one. As if we needed precisions, the last line gives us the jewel's name – blue, certainly, and then the cock only sings at dawn. That makes Blue Dawn. _Really _elementary."

Kaito snorted.

The first one she saw was Hattori-kun. He was easily recognisable, because of his cap and dark skin. By his side was Kudo-kun, with a newspaper in his hand, and immediately next to him, so exactly alike, was–

Oh, God.

She didn't need this.

She broke as the car approached the crossroad. The light turned to red and they started to cross the street. They walked right before her car, animatedly talking. She could see Kudo gesturing, Hattori frowning – and Kaito laughing.

Kaito – she meant, Kid.

Kid – not Kaito.

There was no Kaito anymore, just Kid. Kid. Kid.

A protective horn behind her car informed her that the lights had turned to green a good moment ago. She engaged the clutch and rushed forward.

A thief who meant to steal another jewel tonight.

She had to put a stop to this.


	4. Phone calls

Author's note : Nothing is mine, only the story… and even that I'm not sure.

Phone calls

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

"… Jii, it's two in the morning… shouldn't it be time too… what?"

Aoko hated her cell phone.

It rang whenever it wasn't meant to. Especially when she was taking her shower.

"HELLO?"

"…"

"Miyoshi-san, I appreciate… but…"

"…"

"…er…"

"…"

"DID YOU CALL ME ONLY TO TELL ME THERE WAS NO MESSAGE FROM KID TODAY?"

She slammed her phone shut.

She hated her cell phone _and_ her assistants.

Dial. Dial. Dial.

Ring. Ring.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Hiyoshi speaking. Gimme whoever is the director of the walking disaster! What? Who I am? The producer, you dumbass! Now give me what-ever-his-name-is or you're fired within the newt five seconds!"

There was a dead silence at the other end of the phone. Kaito smirked. Threats always worked.

"Hello?"

"You fool! Who asked you to bring that actress forward! What's that casting? I'm not crediting you fit an ignorant goose! What you can do for me? I'll tell you what you can do – go find me a _real_ actress, someone who might know her role! Somebody famous, so that people will_ pay_ for this show!"

"But…"

"No buts! Just find me somebody right _now_! If there isn't twice as much people as yesterday tonight, no me credits!"

Kaito hung up violently and changed his voice for that of a young, quite famous actress. He dialled the same number again, preparing his double role.

Kaito's number.

Her finger stopped cold before dialling the last number.

_What_ was she doing?

Create confusion. A very simple trick. One more call to go. Then he'd call the police station. Or Aoko-kebu.

Hey, was that an idea…

"Hello? Hi Ran-chan! What? A show tonight? No, I'm not busy… wait. I don't know. Can I call you later on, or… fine. Bye."

"Jii? Have you called them? Good. Yeah, same for me. Huh? Yeah, if you could manage that… fine. Thanks… no, I've got some more calls. Call me back when you're finished."

"Hello? Miyoshi-san, this is Nakamori-kebu… I was calling for that. None? Are you fairly sure? Okay… fine. I'll see you tomorrow morning, then."

She hung up. No Kid's heist tonight.

For the moment. Wouldn't it be safer to…

"This is Kaito Kid!" The disguised voice was echoing through every single one of the police station's loudspeakers. "May I have your attention, please? Well, thought you'd like to know – as a simple neighbour's courtesy – that I'm planning on a heist tonight. Yes, tonight. Sorry it's a bit short. But if I waited any longer, the jewel would be abroad by then. Got it?"

She took a deep breath and pushed the "call" button.

Ring. Ring.

She couldn't believe what she was doing. Her heart was pounding very, very fast.

Ring. Ring. R–

Bip-bip. Bip-bip. Bip-bip.

Crap. It was busy.

When he hung up, half laughing (playing fun at the task force was on the best side of being a thief), Kaito noticed he had missed a call. He raised an eyebrow.

Aoko's number. What the hell–?

Next time she was in the kitchen when her phone – which, of course, she had left in the sitting-room – rang.

When running for it, there was a BANG! and a very loud curse she had never even suspected she new. She picked the phone quite breathlessly.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is Kaito Kid…"

"_WHAT?"_

CRASH!

_Ouch,_ Kaito though on the other end. _That must've hurt._

"What?" she repeated, more calmly.

"I said, 'Hello, this is Kaito Kid.'"

"Yeah, I kinda got that," she said ironically.

"Good. Well, Nakamori-kebu, just thought you'd like to know I'm planning on a heist tonight."

"…" He said that as though planning on a party. She definitely hated him.

"Are you listening? In a theatre. A gem that's about to go abroad. At least, that's what I told your assistants. Your voice is so easy to mimicate… Hey, are you still there? Have you figured out where it is?"

"Go. To. Hell."

"Uh. Okay. See you there, then."

He hung up. She glared down at her phone.

"Hello? Ran-chan? Well, I'd definitely love to go with you…"

Okay, so that was a bit tough… Don't know if you understood… I wrote this all at once but the plot is this, more or less: Kid's aiming at a jewel an actress must arbour in a show for the last time before leaving Japan. He threatens the director so that he fires one of the actresses and he can take her place so he can get at the jewel. He also makes it so that there's a lot of spectators and policemen in the theatre, he can create confusion, and escape in the usual way.

The phone call to Aoko is only because this is supposed to be a Aoko/Kaito pairing, and it could show their relationship as rivals when no one was listening to them… (you know, first chapter was about her feelings, second about his, third about how he reacted with Shinichi and Heiji… next will be about photos from their childhood.)


	5. Old pictures

**Author's note/Disclaimer: MK and DC are not mine… or anyone else's but Gosho Aoyama, unfortunately.**

Aoko awoke at noon with a very sleepy mind. She had spent half of her night chasing Kid and the other half in the police station, typing a report. It was five in the morning, when she had came home.

"Dumb Kid," she growled, wandering in her flat. "I'll become a bat if this goes on."

She burned some toasts and fell on the couch, looking up at the sitting-room's ceiling. Her dreams that night – or else, what had been left of that night – had been odd and complicated, as if she was lost in some labyrinth and she couldn't get out.

The phone rang. She glared at it. She wasn't in very good terms with her phone lately. She picked it up nevertheless.

"Hello? … Hey, Keiko! It's been a while! … yeah, I know… I've been working a lot… what? A photo? … Yes, I remember. Okay, I can take a look for it, but… are you sure? Okay. Fine. Look, I'll call you tonight. … no, it must be in the old albums… right. See you."

He hung up, wondering why Keiko was suddenly so eager to find an old photo, back in their high school days. She kneeled beside the shelf, digging into the ton of Kid files she was keeping there, until she found the old album she had forgotten there months before.

It was dusty, and bigger than she remembered. The pictures inside had been stuck in no order, as if she had been drunk when classing them. Most of them had been taken by her father, or sometimes by her mother when she had been very little and she wasn't dead yet. She had taken some others, and there were some that friends had given her.

She turned a few pages. A whole lot of faces were looking up at her, some that she recognised immediately, some that puzzled her exceedingly.

One of her Christmas parties.

Her father and mother at their wedding – she wasn't even born.

Hakuba's arrival in high school.

The dreadful first experience of horse-riding.

Her mop.

Herself when two, laying on a baby bed.

Oh, she had been sick, that day – was she asleep?

Akako at that Halloween skiing party…

Her father, holding the jewel he had just taken away from Kid – one of his biggest successes.

A cat…

Her first meeting with Ran and Kazuha… Kudo and Hattori weren't on that picture. Yet there must be another one with them on it… yes, here was one… and along with them…

…

She should have known. She _should_ have known.

She turned the page quickly, trying to avoid those piercing blue eyes – and there he was again, and there… She turned another, then another one. _Why_ was he everywhere?

She stopped turning the pages and stared at a picture of him. He _was_ everywhere, wasn't he…

Well, is that surprising? she thought. He's my childhood friend, after all. We've always been together, in the same schools, in the same classes…

Kaito trying to flap her skirt.

And the usual conclusion: her purchasing him with her mop.

She smiled. That had been fun. It would stay in everyone's memory. "You know, darling, when daddy was at school there were two kids who kept purchasing each other with mops all day…" "What's a mop, daddy?"

High school classes. Kaito was there too, reading a newspaper, as usual. The front page showed a picture of the Kid.

A picture of the Kid…

And it had been him. All along. He was reading papers about himself. He was boasting over himself. When they were arguing over it, it was himself he was defending, and how, _how_ had she never been aware of it?

How did he succeed to fool her all that time? They were always together.

"I hate you," she said between her teeth. "I really, really do."

She turned the page. There. The picture Keiko wanted.

She was in the street, in a crowd of people, her fingers making a peace-and-love sign.

And Kid was walking in the air above.

Literally walking.

Aoko had always wondered how he'd done that trick. Her father himself hadn't quite understood.

And really, she had seen nothing of it… not even that night, when she had asked Kaito to accompany them at the heist, and he had declined, although he liked Kid so much… she had seen nothing of it all because she had refused to see it. Refused to see the truth when it was just before her all the while, just before her eyes. She had lived in an illusion and she had contributed to create it.

And it hurt, to see one's world shatter to pieces.

Her head was bent over the picture, her hair hiding her yes away.

A tear fell on the dark sky. Then another.

She hated it when she cried.

**Okay… so this is it. Oh, and about last chapter, I got some people saying it needs to be transformed, and I know it does. I'm working on it right now , but as this story is probably going to be a rather long one, I'll just post the next chapters and replace the "Phone calls' chap when I'm done with it. Next will be called: "The night when he was almost caught"…**


	6. Music's memories

**Author's note: I still don't own anything, neither the characters nor the song. It's called "Spider's web", author Katie Melua.**

------

**Music is the remaining of what once were**

------

_She couldn't actually remember when she had begun to learn piano. It just seemed… natural. Maybe her mother had taught her – they said she had been a great musician in her time – before she died. But that was long ago. And now, her childhood sounded so far. _

_Fortunately, she still had her father – even if he was never there, always chasing Kid… and there was Kaito, too. The two men in her life. Tousan and the best friend… okay, something more than best friend. Her relationship with Kaito was like no other she ever had with other guys. Kaito wasn't a boy, a friend, a love… he was Kaito. And it simply involved all of it._

_These last days, he always seemed so far-away… he said he worked and that work took them apart. And it hurt her heart, to see him away from her when they had always been so close. It worried her, as though she could feel something would happen in the future they would both have to suffer from._

_She looked up at the old piano standing alone in her messy sitting-room. Like every night, her father was gone at the police station… She had hoped he would only stay tonight, as there was no Kid heist, but he had called her, saying he would come home late, and she should hurry to bed 'cause she had school on the morrow. And she'd heard… like notes from a song she used to know and she had forgotten._

_To Hell with Tousan and his recommendations._

_She walked to the piano, her fingers brushing the dust on the keyboard. Slowly, she sat on the chair – it had been so long since she hadn't played. She felt a little frightened… what if she had forgotten everything, just like her dad seemed to forget his love for her._

_Of course, her dad loved her – he just didn't show it. And was that better?_

_And she began to play – much better than she had ever thought she could play, singing a song she heard the same day, or maybe the day before, on the radio…_

_After a few minutes, she felt more confident, and she began to relax._

'Cos the line between

Wrong and right

Is the width of a thread

From a spider's web

_She was so concentrated she didn't even hear the front door open then close slowly, nor did she see in the mirror the tall, dark figure advancing behind her._

The piano keys

Are black and white

But they sound like

A million colours in your mind

_Kaito paused right behind her and she didn't even see him, nor felt him. He raised a hand and brushed his fingers against her hair. She leaned slightly into it, probably thinking it was the wind, or maybe not actually being aware of it._

Should we act on our blame?

Or should we choose the moments away?

Should we live?

Should we give?

_She paused for a second, catching her breath, unable to take over the next sentence. She gasped, however, when a deeper voice began to sing it._

Remember

Forever

The guns and the feathers in time

"_Kaito…"_

_He smiled down at her, and they both began the choir._

'Cos the line between

Wrong and right

Is the width of a thread

From a spider's web.

"_What are you doing here?" her eyes asked him as they sang and her fingers ran on the keyboard._

"_I came over to visit my best friend," his answered with a softness she had never suspected him to ever give away._

The piano keys

Are black and white

But they sound like

A million colours in your mind.

_When the song was over, they both remained silent. Aoko leaned swiftly against his chest, and he put his hands down on her shoulders. She could feel their warmth, his breath against her hair. She sighed – the cold, empty world where she had begun to play had vanished in their friendship's laughter._

"_Always remember this song," Kaito said softly._

"_Why?"_

"The piano keys are black and white_… never forget that." His voice sounded sad. Sad and secretive, hiding away from her._

_So far-away for a moment she felt he was a perfect stranger._

_------_

Back, twenty-two-years-old Nakamori Aoko shook her head to erase her mind of her own seventeen-years-old self's memories. Those ones, those who talked about Kaito and herself, about how they used to be so close, were the most painful ones. The worst part was that a single thing – _anything_ – could bring them back, fresh and hard, a simple song, or two friends laughing in the street, or a red rose in a flower shop… anything.

Anything like a piano standing alone in an empty room.

Too bad the jewel Kid aimed tonight was in a showcase in the same room. The other cases had been removed, but the piano was too large and heavy.

And why did they have to tell her that the place to survey the gem was the chair beside the piano?

To sit there… again… she hadn't touched a keyboard ever since she was seventeen, ever since Kaito had sang with her that very last time.

She tried to concentrate on the case in front of her, but there was a large empty space and, most of all, the black surface of the instrument in between.

She turned on her chair to check the windows and the cameras. Half of the Task Force was in the stairs and the other floors of the building, but the other half was watching her lonely figure on the screens.

She pivoted and her ankle hit one of the keys. A loud C echoed through the silent and empty room. Very loud.

The song began with that note… did it?

Which song?

She played hesitantly the first measures, and suddenly found her back in time, flashbacks crashing in her mind like evasive birds.

"No," she said, more for herself than for anybody or anything else. It meant, "Don't do it. You're not seventeen anymore. You're not an immature teenage girl. You have responsibilities. You're twenty-two, you're a police officer, Kid can show up anytime…"

Another part of her mind, however, was thinking that Kid was Kaito, too, and how would he react if he heard her play and sing that song again? Or had he forgotten all about it?

Sometimes one didn't care a damn about logic and all that kind of crap.

And thus, she began to play.

_Should we act on our blame_

_Or should we chose the best moments away?_

_Should we live?_

_Should we give?_

In the cameras' room, she reflected, they were probably all wondering why on _earth_ she was playing the piano – such a song, too – at this very moment. The hour when Kid had said he'd appear was approaching very, very fast… had she forgotten about it? Should they go and remind her? Or was it just a strategy to capture Kid?

They decided to leave her alone. After all, it was her responsibility.

_Remember_

_Forever_

_The guns and the feathers in time_

Now that was the part when Kaito had joined her. Five years had gone… but she remembered it all perfectly and if she closed her eyes, she could almost feel herself back in her old sitting-room, the one where she had lived her whole childhood and she had left never to come back.

'_Cos the line between_

_Wrong and right_

_Is the width of a thread_

_From a spider's web_

Kid _would _show up very soon. She needed to stop. Stop it right now, she was too much concentrated, she didn't even pay attention to the gem anymore… stop it, stop it… but her fingers just kept running on the keyboard, blind to any attempt of reasoning.

And here came the words she had attempted to avoid for the last five years.

_The piano keys_

_Are black and white_

_But they sound like _

_A million colours in your mind_

Fortunately, the cameras pointed at the case, and thus at her back. If they hadn't, and showed her face instead, the task force would have wondered why two lonely tears began to run down her cheeks.

'_Cos the line between_

_Wrong and right_

_Is the width of a thread_

_From a spider's web_

A noise at the window right in front of her caused her to jerk her head up. And there he was, in his white suit, the hat and monocle perfectly in place, his impassive face staring at her…

Impassive…

But she thought she had caught… something like a flash of surprise in the blue eye she could gaze in.

She kept singing, never looking away, almost hoping he would join her, once again…

_The piano keys_

_Are black and white_

_But hey sound like_

_A million colours in your mind_

He didn't.

---------

He stole the jewel with incredible easiness that night.

He restored it to its owner, however, about an hour later.

Aoko knew she was to get all the responsibility for Kid's getting to steal the gem so easily. It wasn't the duty of a police officer to play the piano when she should have been chasing Kid.

But she didn't care a damn about it.

There was a note attached to the jewel when she had found it on the doorstep where Kid had respectfully left it. It was a simple card, with the usual picture showing Kid's arrogant grin, but the words she was alone to understand:

_Thanks for remembering the song._

Kid was a bit like Kaito, wasn't he?


	7. I won't let you take it

**Author's note: I don't own any of the characters I'm using in that story. But they're following me because Gosho Aoyama's been working on them for years, Conan isn't back to Shinichi, Ran hasn't stopped crying, Kazuha and Heiji are still as innocent as new-born babes, Kaito hasn't found Pandora yet and the only mark of love Aoko can show him is swing her mop at him.**

**So.**

**-------**

**I won't let you take it**

**-------**

"KID AIMES AT THE CLOCK'S GEM – AGAIN!" the newspaper's front page showed.

Aoko crumpled it with rage and nearly spilled her coffee on the table. She looked through the window into the street, trying to catch the meaning of all this.

_Who_ was he trying to kid…?

And _why_, after five years, had he decided to try stealing it again? Was it only because the old clock was to be brought down once again?

She was shaking with anger. She took a few deep breaths and attempted to read the article with as much calm as she could. Five years before, at the announcement of the clock's destruction, she had been grieved and lonely – no word could express her relief when her father had told her nothing, finally, would happen to it. That place held so many memories. Even after her dad was gone, and Kaito was gone, too, she still cherished it as much, for it recalled her of times when she had been happy.

The arrival of the two people whom she had been waiting for prevented her from reading further than the first two columns.

"Aoko!" Ran said cheerfully, sitting before her at the café's table. Shinichi was at the desk, taking orders.

"Hey, Ran-chan," Aoko answered, trying to sound just as cheerful. Obviously there was a tiny note of distress in her voice, 'cause Ran immediately asked, "What is it? you don't look well. Are you ill?"

Shinichi put a tray down on the table and sat by his girlfriend. "What's happening?"

"Aoko's not okay."

"But…"

"You _look_ tired," the meitantei said, gazing at her face with an inquisitive look. "You haven't got a lot of sleep these last days, have you?"

"Not much," she admitted reluctantly. "Kid's been busy lately."

"Does he actually intend to steal the old clock's jewel?" Ran asked, pointing at her newspaper.

Aoko shot a glance at it. "Seems so," she said coldly. "And if he does, I'll rip his bones out. This clock's very important to me – I won't let him touch it!"

She had shrieked the last words. Ran looked surprised, Shinichi looked worried. The case of that old clock… it had been his first meeting with Kid, even before he was turned into Conan. The first fight of long series of fights.

But if he remembered well, Kid's real aim that night had been to…

He began to feel his pockets for a paper and pen.

"Why is the clock so important to you?" Ran, obviously anxious to change the subject, said. "Anything to do with Kuroba-kun?"

Aoko blushed deeply, cursing herself for doing so. "No. No, it doesn't."

"It does." Ran grinned. "What's the matter, Shinichi?"

"Paper and pen," he mumbled, rummaging through her bag.

"In the small pocket over there." He found them and began scribbling something down.

"But didn't Kid try to steal that jewel before?" Ran continued. "He was prevented from so by your father, wasn't he?"

"Yes. He…"

"Speaking of this case," Shinichi cut in, still drawing on his piece of paper, "ever heard about the enigma Kid left on the clock five years ago?"

"An enigma?"

"Yeah… right in the middle of the clock's face. Here." He handed her the paper where he had scribbled down the circular enigma. "If you succeed in deciphering it, you might understand what Kid's aim was. And is, I suppose."

"What Kid's aim was?" Aoko repeated, puzzled.

"It _looks_ like a clock's face," Ran observed. "And this… is it katakana?"

"It doesn't make any sense," Aoko said, after reading them.

"If it did, it wouldn't be an enigma."

"Yeah… but usually Kid's enigmas are silly riddles. Are you sure that's from him?"

"Positive," Shinichi said. "Look, Aoko, you should try and find out by yourself. 'Till tonight, you've got time. If you do find, well… you'll understand why he wrote it that way."

Aoko left them soon afterwards. Ran watched her out.

"I'm worried," she told Shinichi. "She's involving herself too much. She looks exhausted… can't she take some vacation?"

"She should", Shinichi agreed. "And… don't worry too much. I'm sure she'll be fine."

'I hope you know what you're doing, Kuroba', he thought.

-------

Some miles away, one famous magician, preparing for tonight's heist, sneezed.

------

Aoko cursed. It had been three hours. She had worked three damn hours on this silly enigma! Three hours lost in the tiny police caravan, with a broken air acclimatiser.

She glanced at her watch. Ten to eight. Kid wouldn't appear till nine, she knew, and the caravan was parked just below the clock tower, so time was kinda running short.

Time…

_If you succeed in deciphering it, you might understand what Kid's real aim was._

So Shinichi had said.

But Kid's aim had been the gem… hadn't it?

She came back at the enigma, frowning. The katakana didn't make any sense, so they probably had to be turned into their equivalent in hiragana or kanji. Probably the latter. First, he'd always been quite good at grammar, second, she just couldn't figure the great last magician of the century writing undecipherable enigmas in hiragana.

There had to be a clue… a lead that permitted to read through it all. Where had it been written in the first place?

_Right in the middle of the clock's face._

_It looks like a clock's face,_ Ran-chan had also said, and so it did. It was a circle divided in twelve pie parts; in each was written a katakana. She re-drew it, writing them down in kanji.

That helped nothing at all.

Wait. Think. It had been written on a clock's face. In the shape of a clock.

Clock, clock, clock.

There was no hand to accentuate one or the other of the kanji and therefore lead her to a solution.

What about changing one syllable for the next in katakana conjugation? That might work… if she knew which way to go, or else to read.

A clock… clockwise…

Did that mean to go onward? Well, there was no harm trying… she re-drew one picture.

She read. Her brain stopped for a second, and she stared unbelievingly at the wall.

She read again.

And a third time.

"No."

Shinichi had made a mistake when writing it down for her. He had to. 'If he hadn't…

She had to check this out.

------

Ten to nine.

Aoko was standing in very insecure balance on the clock's littlest hand, and bending to see the face's middle, where the enigma still was readable.

She compared it with that on the paper she was holding. Her eyes went back and forth between the two until she was perfectly sure they were alike. She checked her reasoning in hope she'd made some mistake somewhere. She found none.

She read it on the paper.

She read it on the clock.

"It's not possible," she murmured.

It read, "I won't let you take this clock's tone."

"It's _not_ possible," she said.

"Seems that you've made an interesting discovery, Nakamori-kebu," a very familiar and very, very close voice said in her ear.

She tried to stand up, stumbled, and was only prevented from the fall by a gloved hand. She pulled herself up on the hand and glared at the arrogant grin before her.

"Congratulations, Nakamori-kebu," he said joyfully. "You've finally understood what the enigma meant."

Aoko found nothing to say, and glared some more. Her hand slowly went down to her side, searching for her gun.

Kid was looking up at the black sky. When he spoke again, there was a note of perfectly measured sadness in his voice.

"Last time I came here, it was five years ago. I was standing where you now are, your father…" he pointed at the trap which led to the inside of the clock, "was here. He tried to warn his men with his walkie-talkie, and I prevented him… like this…"

There was a _viuff_ and next thing Aoko knew an ace of spades had flown her gun away.

He pocketed his card-gun. Aoko looked at the ground. There was a crowd of people down there, pointing and shouting. Five years ago she had been there too, brandishing a sign protesting against Kid. Something like a smile tugged rapidly at her lips.

"Well, I thing my task here is finished," Kid said softly.

"What about the…" Aoko hurriedly looked up at the jewel fitting in the biggest hand. "What about the gem?"

He smiled. And the bells began to ring.

For a long moment they just stood, watching each other, surrounded by the profound, deep sounds.

And that, Aoko understood, had been his aim. Because the clock was to be brought down.

"The gem's a fake," Kid said. "Five years ago my aim was to leave this enigma here." His voice softened a little. "Did you think you were the only one who cared about this place?"

Because the clock was to be brought down. Because he knew the enigma would be considered as an exhibit and the police would oppose to the clock's destruction 'till it was resolved.

But now it had been. She had solved it, right?

"Come to think of it," Kid added thoughtfully. He turned and smiled at her. "Nakamori-kebu had probably found the solution too."

With this he dived in the air, his handglider opening after a few seconds.

"Baka," Aoko thought, watching him flying away. She heard shouts, and the sirens of police cars pursuing him. She didn't move.

Her assistant's head popped up through the trap. "Nakamori-kebu? Are you okay? Did Kid steal the jewel?" he added nervously.

"Yes, I'm fine," Aoko snapped. "And no, he didn't."

"Good," her assistant said, sounding relieved. "The property developers were wondering as to when the clock could be brought down…"

"They'll have to wait," Aoko said. "Look at this."

Her assistant twitched his neck in order to see. "What is it?"

"An enigma Kid left. It's an important clue so the clock will stay as it is 'till we know what it exactly means."

Her assistant looked embarrassed. "The property developers will disagree…"

"I'll talk to them," Aoko said dryly. "Moreover, I'll take care of the enigma."

There was something she had learned when entering the police. When Nakamori-kebu, either father or daughter, was angry, no one dared to protest.

They would have to wait… a very, very long time. The longest possible.

Till Kid's next visit…

-----

**Another chapter up! now, I would be much grateful to you to **_**review**_**. I've got ideas for the end of the story but your comments are always helping me. Making me feel better, too.**

**Kanji are the usual letters in Japanese, but katakana and hiragana are the alphabets the children learn first, the hiragana being the easiest.**


	8. The pretender

**Author's note: I don't own, won't use for commercial use… blah blah.**

**-------**

**The pretender**

**-------**

Like his French model Arsène Lupin, Kaitou Kid wasn't a single entity.

He was a multiple of them.

He owned countless masks.

He owned countless voices.

He could be a wed, an old man, a lawyer, a preacher, a teenage girl, a middle-aged woman – one after the other – uncountable times.

But the one he preferred was Kuroba Kaito. In other words, himself.

Because nobody would expect Kid to be a young man in his twenties when his first heist had been committed 22 years before (but then nobody knew about his father.)

Because nobody would expect Kid to be show his real identity up in full light (but then the police was so stupid!)

Because it felt good to be oneself once in a while.

Yep, it was definitely the best. At least, when Aoko wasn't nearby. Where, for the moment, she wasn't.

There were lots and lots of policemen, like usual, in the museum – someone had probably told them Kid would come in daylight for a preliminary visit. Which he did. Right under their nose.

As he inspected very closely the jewel he was about to steal that night, he overheard quite an interesting conversation between the two police officers surveying it–

"Nakamori-kebu's not here?"

"No. She said watch for Kid."

"Yeah, but Kid's a master if disguise… maybe he's two feet away…"

_Good guess, gentlemen,_ Kaito thought, moving an inch towards them.

"But then, Naramori-kebu could've come," the second officer said.

"She wants to avoid Shohei-san."

"What? That Shohei guy is still after her?"

"Yeah, though she turned him down a number of times…"

There was a pause. Kaito dared not lift his eyes at them. He turned around the case, as if giving a good look at the jewel.

"Hey, look, here he comes."

A good-looking young man, yet with conceited looks, was advancing towards them. He brushed past Kaito, who smelled the sour smell of orchid perfume around him.

"Where is Nakamori-kebu?" he asked, tossing his hair.

"Dunno," both the officers said at the same time.

"Oh… I suppose she'll be coming tonight."

"Sure thing," the first man said.

"It's a _Kid's heist_," the second added.

They both seemed to think he was a complete dumbass, but that Shohei guy didn't notice it. He walked away with grace before stumbling on an extinguisher and falling down the whole lot of stairs.

"Comic guy," one of the policemen said.

"Moron," the other said.

"Really can't understand why he's still hanging around Nakamori-kebu."

"Probably still thinks she'll fall for him because he's good-looking."

"He wouldn't believe her if she told him she's got a boyfriend."

"She probably doesn't."

"Aww, I don't think she does."

"It's the kind of woman to be wed with her job."

"Exactly so."

Now Kaito had been quite long in the vicinity. They were beginning to look at him with suspicious eyes.

_Don't make a fool of yourself, _he thought. _You're Kaito Kid here, not Kuroba Kaito. Keep your eyes on the jewel… and try not to think._

Didn't matter, anyway. He had what he wanted, what he needed for his heist. He moved to another gem, then slowly walked to the stairs.

_Thieves are always clever, _he thought, smiling at himself.

------

Nakamori Aoko prudently looked around the room. It was crowded with policemen, but the face she feared didn't seem to be there. She let go of a relieved sigh and moved on, waiting to be jumped upon by her assistants any moment, which didn't, of course, fail.

"Nakamori-kebu, Kid hasn't still appeared," one of them said, as if it wasn't obvious.

"How many men survey the gem?" she asked, looking at the ceiling.

"Ten. Maybe we should…"

"No."

"… send some more there."

"No," Aoko repeated firmly.

"All right. Do you want to see the cameras in the gem's room?"

"Already did… Where are the screens?"

"Over there," the assistants said, pointing at the corner of the crowded room. "Do you wish to…"

"Nakamori-san," a good-looking young man with conceited looks said, approaching her. She could already smell the orchid perfume.

She did her best to sound pleasant, if not pleased. "Shohei-san."

"I thought you might need me."

"And why would I?" Aoko urged to ask. Instead, "You're right. There is something I want to ask from you."

He beamed at her. "I'm attention itself."

_Idiot,_ Aoko thought before saying, "I want you to go up to the gem's place and keep an eye on it. It's ten to eleven. It's a very important responsibility, so you should hurry."

"Right away, Nakamori-san." He rushed off. Aoko watched him disappear with a curious impression, a feeling tugging at the back of her mind like something that wasn't right, wasn't normal.

"Jackass," she whispered.

"Come again, kebu?"

"Nothing." She turned to her assistants. "Now show me those screens."

------

At eight to eleven, nothing had happened. The gem's room, through the cameras, was still and silent.

At five to eleven, nothing had happened. Shohei was eagerly surveying the gem. Aoko, with an irritated move of the head, tried to shake off his last words.

_Right away, Nakamori-san._

_Nakamori-san._

At three to eleven, nothing had happened. Two policemen began to talk to each other and point at their watches. Aoko told them to shut the hell up.

At one to eleven nothing had happened. Everyone held their breath, so that silence was more stunning than ever.

At eleven o'clock, nothing happened… for the first five seconds. Then a gust of smoke invaded the room.

_Right away, Nakamori-san._

Everyone gaped at the screen where, however, nothing could be seen.

"I'll go. Don't move," Aoko told her assistants – but they did move as soon as she was gone – and rushed for the door.

She collapsed with somebody before reaching it. She was about to push him off but then she smelled the orchid perfume.

"What are you doing here?" she stammered up at him. Since when was he so tall?

He raised an eyebrow, then grinned down at her.

"I arrived just now. Thought you might need me."

"What?" she gasped. "What do you mean, just now?"

He raised the other eyebrow. "Now. A minute ago. A moment ago."

_Nakamori-san._

_Nakamori-kebu._

_That, that wasn't right. _

Aoko ran away.

She rushed up the stairs, hardly believing it. He had fooled her. No, more than that. He knew – _where_ had he learnt it? – she would throw him away to the most convenient place. He had foreseen everything, her irritation, her reaction – everything.

When she entered the gem's room, it was silent. The guards were asleep – and being ten, eleven or more didn't keep them from snoring – the smoke must have been a soporific one. And, of course, the gem was missing. The smoke had cleared off through he open window – and so, probably, had Kid.

No, she thought, bending over the frame. There were guards down there. Maybe he wouldn't have been caught, but they would have alerted her.

A terrible thought struck her. She took a good look around. There were no blond hair in sight, no orchid perfume in the air. The sleepers were only ten.

She blurted out a very original, colourful curse. Her father would have been proud of her.

She ran downstairs. No need to stop at the camera room – he'd left already. She didn't have time, time enough to catch up with him.

She crashed on the first floor, hurrying to the windows that overlooked on the front.

He was there, just leaving the building. The guards at the entry hadn't stopped him – well, of course they hadn't. They probably had just laughed at him, like they always did.

She held out her gun and opened the window. The creaking sound caused him to turn out a little.

She shot at him. Twice. Deliberately missing him. Only to let him know she hadn't been fooled long.

He looked up at the figure standing in the dark window.

She felt his smile as he faded out in the darkness.

------

**Another chap done… I begin to feel sorry for those two. After all that, they really should have a happy ending… so tells me my romantic side. Another voice tells me it would be much easier for me to kill them both in a Romeo and Juliet fashion… so that as they couldn't be together on earth, they could be in the other side, etc, etc.**

**Just kidding. I won't kill them. Honest.**


	9. Of Friendship and its Implications

**Author's note: Well, if this isn't a new chapter… Always the same disclaimer of course (Gosho Aoyama is a genius! sniff).**

**The final arrival of Saguru and Akako Hakuba! I like those too… especially married…**

**------**

**Of Friendship and its Implications**

**------**

Hakuba Saguru and Koizumi Akako were two great friends of Aoko's. Their story was, erm, quite unusual.

Akako was a very beautiful girl who used to want every man in the world to be her slave – and occasionally a witch whose best friend was Lucifer.

Saguru was a very rich, very arrogant and very maniac heir who liked everything to be reasonable – and occasionally one of Kid's greatest rivals, and certainly the one whom he was teasing most.

They had both met in high school, and (after Saguru referred to Aoko as his angel and Akako referred to Kaito as the only man who resisted her) had eventually fallen for each other, got married at twenty – yet nobody knew who was the man with black wings who smelled terrible and refused to enter the church – and gone off on a world tour as a honeymoon.

Well, yeah, quite an unusual story.

In all likelihood they would end up the way Yusaku Kudo and Yukiko Fujimine had: giving birth to a smug kid obsessed with solving murders, and going on said world tour once a year.

Aoko hadn't seen them since they had left Japan two years before, and the last news she had received from them dated back to six months – a very short, about two minutes long, long-distance call from Bolivia, only to say they were alive and they would be back in November.

So they had.

They had caught her off guard the day before by inviting her to one of the city's most famous restaurants.

They had changed a little. Saguru's hair was longer and Akako seemed taller, though not as slender as she used to be. To see them and observe those changes suddenly made Aoko aware of the time that had passed by since she had last been meeting with them. The time that had gone loose, leaving her behind.

"Well, was the world as large and interesting as you imagined it?" she asked after they had ordered.

"Larger," Akako said.

"As for the interesting part…" Saguru began.

"Fascinating," Akako cut in.

They laughed. Obviously this was a sort of a joke between the two of them.

"Tell me everything," Aoko excitedly. "Where did you guys go?"

The major part of the supper was devoted to this. They talked about countries and forests, about seas and oceans, about history and future, about customs and traditions, about superstitions and religions. Aoko listened in earnest. All of this she would have loved to see and hear by herself. Sometimes it felt good to get out of one's reality share.

Only for dessert they stopped and started another subject.

"You haven't talked a lot about yourself, Aoko. How's your job going?"

She shrugged. "Neither good or bad. Kid's always escaping. Sometimes I get to take the jewel back from him… Routine." She turned to Saguru. "Some help would be much appreciated, Hakuba-kun."

"Any time," he said. "You know you're quite well-known in the world out there. Kid's famous in the USA and Europe… and therefore you are, too."

"Oh, yeah, I can imagine the papers," said Aoko. "'KID FOOLS STUPID OFFICER NAKAMORI AGAIN! When will she give up?' Great."

Saguru looked embarrassed. Akako elbowed him gently. Unfortunately this was not quite far from the truth.

"When will be his next heist?" she asked Aoko who was playing nervously with her fork. She shrugged once more.

"Dunno. Could be tomorrow night. Sometimes he only warns us in the morning. But he hasn't moved for the last few days so he probably will before the end of he week. What makes me _sick,_" she burst out suddenly, "is that he _always_ warns us before, when it could be much easier for him to steal jewels without being shot at. I feel he's only having _fun_ with us!"

Saguru nodded lightly. There was a certain amount of things he remembered about Kid, and the mocking bit was the greatest part of that. Yet he couldn't quite imagine Kaito laughing at Aoko's nose like he used to laugh at the late Inspector Nakamori and himself. He tried something else.

"At least he's not lying to you guys," he said. "The police do know…"

"Thank god he doesn't lie anymore," Aoko growled. "He's been lying to me for too long."

Akako's eyes narrowed. Saguru started, but he obviously found nothing to say. Aoko felt her heart break a bit more. She had supposed they knew, but they hadn't even talked about it… about Kaito… she had tried to know and it had succeeded. Now she didn't even know what she had hoped.

Betrayed. Once more.

"Well, I'll suppose I'll have to go," she said, reaching for her purse, "I have to wake up early tomorrow morning in case Kid…" She shrugged and got out two banknotes.

"It's on me," Saguru said–

She slammed the banknotes down, grabbed her bag and coat, and flew, literally, away.

Akako called her back.

"Aoko, Kaito never meant to lie to you."

Aoko slowly turned and looked at them.

"But he did," she said. "And so did you."

------

Saguru and Akako Hakuba were worried. Alarmed. Grieving. For their friends, which was rare.

They had always known one day Aoko would know about Kaito being Kid. But such an unsolvable situation they had hoped never to see. They didn't know how she had uncovered it – whether he had told her himself, which sounded quite like him – but she obviously suffered a lot, whatever faces she could make up.

They wished they could do something for them. Anything. When it came to feelings and sadness neither Lucifer nor a great fortune could do anything. But–

Quick footsteps echoed behind them and Kaito's unmistakable, laughing voice came up, fresh water pouring from a fountain.

"Hey, so you guys finally came back home?"

They turned to him but didn't answer. They just gazed. He frowned.

"Okay, what's with the dark faces?"

The Hakuba couple looked at one another.

"We just dined with Aoko," Saguru said.

Poker Face instantly came up, drawing his amusement and irony back in the shadows.

"Oh, really?" Kaito said calmly, lightly. "And how is Nakamori-keibu going?"

"She isn't well, Kaito," Saguru growled with anger.

Akako's still, profound voice then echoed in the night dividing them.

"She was smiling, but her smile was that of someone who's been wanting to die for nights. She tried to stay impassive, but she was holding back her tears. Her voice was interested but also broken, as though her mind was really wandering somewhere off, somewhere where she couldn't choose to go to or back."

Kaito's face remained impassive.

"Kuroba…" Saguru began, taking back the name he usually gave him in high school.

"The two of you won't stand this much longer," Akako cut in, her eyes burning with anger and concern – or was it just an illusion? "Now the question is about who will give up first. And if neither does you'll probably end up dying of exhaustion."

"Shut up," Kaito said in a low voice.

"She looked tired. Not only physically but mentally. And so do you. I mean it, you'll kill each other with your own hands."

"I SAID SHUT THE HELL UP!"

His face was still and calm but his eyes were fiery. Akako sighed and shook her head, leaning against her husband's shoulder. Saguru caressed her hair absentmindedly – and this simple, familiar gesture, which seemed so natural for the two of them, made Kaito want to cry.

"Right," Akako said, "I won't insist. There is only one thing I think you might want to know. You probably never noticed it, but back in high school I had sort of a crush on you. And Saguru fancied Aoko quite a lot – but _that_, you did notice."

Kaito snorted. He wouldn't say a word about those days. He'd been happy back then, happy every day by Aoko's side. They looked like a dream, grievingly fresh and vivid in his mind.

"But we both gave up. Because the two of you were in love with each other, and we didn't have such a role to play in both your lives. We'd only get to interfere. We should thank you for this, anyway, for that's the way we found each other."

She smiled at her husband. He smiled back.

"What Akako's trying to say is that if you're still in love with her – which I can see you are, you should tell her. Tell her now, before the two of you are more badly hurt."

------

Aoko turned the corner. She was feeling guilty she had spoken so harshly to her old friends. Of course they couldn't tell her. It wasn't their secret. More, they knew it would hurt her beyond possible if they did – they had tried to protect him and her at the same time.

She was walking fast in hope she would catch up with them. She would apologize, and then they would maybe end up the evening in a bar. Around a cup of coffee, she would tell them about Kaito and their meetings during the heists… it would be relieving to talk about it, to get to be listened to and understood.

She suddenly saw them, facing her. They were talking with a man whose face she couldn't see – yet, watching his back, she instantly recognised.

There was no such messy hair but his.

There was no such smug bearing but his.

She stood, watching him more than them, wondering why her heart hadn't yet shattered to pieces when she'd heard his voice.

They were arguing, obviously – Saguru sounded angry. But the argument ended sharply when Akako noticed her above Kaito's shoulder, a pale, motionless figure standing in the night.

"Aoko…" the name swept in the cold air like a wave on still water. She saw Kaito's body stiffen. But she instantly knew he wouldn't turn around, he wouldn't see her. He wouldn't know her as a former friend, a recent foe; he wouldn't even look at her. And she could only watch his back, hoping for time to – what, backtrack? It was way too late, for both of them. It was – she realized that like a shock in the chest – hopeless.

Saguru advanced hesitantly – a step of two towards her. "Aoko…"

"I just wanted to apologize," she said to him and Akako, hurry to get on with it for fear she would burst into tears," for my being rude to you tonight. And… welcome home."

She then turned and went away.

------

**This turned a little more angsty than I thought… I liked the Hakubas' interaction. I guess I'll find a way to talk more about them in the future.**

**Got any ideas? Review and comment, please!**


	10. Mirroring the truth

**Author's note: This is from Kaito's point of view – for once – and it's kinda sad… well, I wanted to see the situation from his side and know what he thought about it, and it came in while I wrote this. The characters are writing this story… as always…**

**And I own nothing but a total lack of inspiration for those disclaimers.**

**------**

Mirroring the truth

------

Kuroba Kaito hated mirrors.

He hated mirrors and the unnerving habit they had of reflecting his eyes and face – not the way he wanted people to see them but the way himself saw them. 'Himself' was the only person whom he couldn't lie to, the only person whom he couldn't hide from. 'Himself' was the only one who could see right through him and point out his weaknesses with the coldness of a computer program. 'Himself' often screamed in his head at night, and he woke up with a start, covered in sweat… 'Himself' was a very annoying person.

He'd removed from his flat every mirror it contained the night he'd gone and told Aoko who he was. There, at least, within the quiet boundaries of this domain, he was the only inhabitant, the only living one. Everything was peaceful and steady; every piece of furniture was a point of reference which he could rely on. There was no labyrinth into which he could lose his path, no overhanging memory from a past he didn't want to remember.

His flat was a haven, away from the difficulties and troubles of reality. It was the only place where he could still dream, and wonder how his life would've turned if he'd worked it out differently. No one could get at him there. No one could hurt him, if not himself.

But when he went out he was surrounded with mirrors. He could see himself in the shop windows, in the cars that blurred past him, in the puddles of water that laid on the pavement. He saw a young man of twenty-three, dark, wild-haired, rather tall and lean. He walked quickly by, glancing only at his reflection who seemed to be eluding himself as much as he did.

He saw himself in eyes, too. Gazes and stares that were directed at him or simply brushed against him, with either interest or indifference. He knew girls were watching him when he strolled by, but _they_ were seeing someone else. They saw a ghost, a phantom he displayed to their eyes and senses. They couldn't find, in a second's meeting, the fugitive buried in his heart, under layers and layers of appearances and well-performed comedies.

He was playing, to his acquaintances, to his friends, even to his mother, the same act of well-being and well-feeling. He saw that guy, in their gazes and speeches, the one they knew and he ignored, the one he'd invented casually and who had slowly become an unbreakable façade.

With all he was Kuroba-kun, who amused them with his irony and magician tricks. They thought he hadn't changed a hair since high school. If they met Kaito, the real Kaito, they'd be aghast.

But there was no real Kaito. There had been, once. Now it was a total stranger.

He slumped on a bench, his hands dug deep in his pockets, and sighed. In front of him, a shining storewindow showed him his distant, shaded figure for a moment, then the sun swept behind a cloud and the glass turned dark grey.

Around him, behind him, passers-by and cars were rolling about one way or another, each of them preoccupied with their own, carelessly important problems, and too busy to pay attention to a young man sitting on a bench. He began to study their faces and gestures with forced amusement, but almost immediately lost interest.

He leant back, and, tipping his head up, stared. It was a nice, cool November day and the sky was a very pale blue. There seemed to be no clouds, but southward, where the sun was trying, with difficulty, to shine its way through thin rays of smoke-like white. A mild wind was blowing, rushing against the trees planted all along the avenue. When the branches swayed gently, rustling, a light, green mist came into Kaito's sight and blurred for a short moment his small portion of sky.

Somebody sat on the bench beside him and he was propelled back onto earth. It was a little girl of seven or eight, with messy dark hair and a short blue dress. She turned to look at him, and he was overwhelmed with sensations and memories of an evening under the clock tower. She looked so much like Aoko.

The both of them stared for a little while, then the small girl asked with a very serious face, "Ne, niisan, why are you looking so sad?"

Whatever he'd thought she would say, this wasn't. He then remembered that children often were more sensitive than adults, and in general less tactful.

"I'm not sad," he said. "And what are you doing here alone? Are you waiting for anyone?"

"My cousin," she said, and gave a little pout. "But she's busy and she told me to wait."

This reminded Kaito of so many almost identical words a certain little girl had said some fifteen years before that his body reacted instinctively. His hand went up in front of her face and, with a snap of his fingers, produced a fine, fresh, neat red rose. Her reaction, her wide eyes and delighted smile, were so exactly what Aoko's had been that he felt a painful pang in the heart.

She took it gleefully, and, as her fingers grazed against the flower's silk-like petals, he wondered if this couldn't be some sort of dream. Such a likeliness could not simply be chance, and yet… and yet…

"Hiro-chan!" a well-known voice shouted behind him, "I told you not to go too far-away…"

The small girl looked up, and pouted again. "But, Aoko-neechan," she began, but Kaito had lost attention on her.

And there she was, in her blue police uniform, standing only two steps away from the bench. Her eyes immediately locked with his, then trailed on her little cousin's. They widened just a little at the sight of the rose, and he could make out her thoughts then – she knew by heart that trick, and the slow, settling delight that now openly showed on Hiro-chan's face.

She bit her lip – shook her head imperceptibly. Then, seizing Hiro-chan under the arms, she hoisted her up against her, with a severe reprimand, "Didn't I tell you not to speak to strangers?"

Strangers. That was an attack directed straight to his heart, but he tried not to pay attention to it. If he did, he would probably go insane.

"Buuuut, Aoko-neechan…" Hiro complained. "He's not a bad guy…"

"You've no idea," Aoko replied, with the first gleam of irony in her voice he heard for the day. He wasn't disposed to laugh. Mockery and criticism were all right when he was Kid, but he was Kaito, even if she was trying to pretend he wasn't. He didn't look like Kid right now. He looked like her childhood friend.

She turned on her heels to leave and, doing so, met his gaze again. Neither of them said anything – nothing was exchanged but a slight bow of the head – but for a moment he felt the way she saw him. Not like the other girls did, nor even like a police officer would towards a criminal, but like himself did. She looked right through him – she was able to look right through him, through his masks, through his tricks. That was probably due to the endless nights of purchasing him among his disguises, but… but…

She was leaving, and Hiro was shouting over her shoulder, "Good-bye, Mr Magician!"

"Good-bye," he replied absently, responding to her wave with a vague move of the hand. He was feeling sick.

When he got back home that day, he felt for the first time that this flat wasn't really the haven he dreamt of. It was too empty, too big, too dark. He walked down the corridor, without switching the lights on, and wondered how it would have been, if. Aoko, maybe, would have been waiting for him, welcoming him with a yawn and her arms around his neck. They would have had a quiet evening, a good supper, an old movie – and then to bed. Not the kind of thing they were having now, catch-me-if-you-can chases down the streets on handglider and police car.

He went in the living room, where the walls were dark-grey and the furniture light-grey. There were no colours, no shades, nothing. Just good taste and a lot of nostalgia.

He stared at the black window in front of him. He could see himself in that frame, a tall figure standing blankly at the door. He could see himself, an unwilling reflection of himself, the way Aoko had probably seen him this afternoon.

He was a young man of twenty-three, dark, wild-haired, rather tall and lean. Some physiology specialist would have showed how much his shoulders and the way he held his head expressed tiredness. He would also have pointed at the eyes, blue, wonderful deep eyes, but empty and blank and feelingless.

He smiled ruefully and leant against the window, resting his hot forehead against the cold surface. Outside, he could see the complicated pattern of lit streets, entangling themselves one way and another, like a labyrinth. He drowned himself in that sight, trying not to pay attention to his mournful reflection, right through the looking glass.

He hated mirrors, because they confronted him with his own, fragile truth.

------

**Well? What do you think? Does it fit? I wasn't really sure, but I liked the way Kaito is really numb and, and… desperate in this, but no one can see it except Aoko and himself.**


	11. High school reunion

**Author's note: I own nothing. NOTHING. And I can't do anything about it, nor can you, so read the story and stop getting bothered by my fairly silly disclaimers…**

-

High school reunion

-

"Keiko, I don't know… I've got a lot of work. I don't know if I'll have time enough to…"

"Nonsense!" Keiko snapped on the other end of the line. "It's two in the afternoon. You've got plenty of time. Where are you now?"

"In the shopping centre. But…"

"That's only ten minutes away! You can come here and just drop by for an hour before going to work tonight. Come on, Aoko! There's only one high school reunion a year. You wouldn't miss such an occasion to see the old friends!"

That's exactly what I want to avoid, Aoko thought, sliding between two desks displaying stuffy red and green Santas. Although she knew there was little chance Kaito would there, too – he'd never been fond of this kind of things – she wouldn't take the risk.

"I'll bet you haven't even seen Akako-chan and Hakuba-kun since they've returned to Japan," Keiko was saying excitedly.

"I have…"

"And Kuroba-kun won't be there, okay, but that's no reason for you to stay away too!"

Oh, he wouldn't come? If Keiko said that then it meant she'd called him and pressed him to come, and he'd shoved her away. Aoko's convictions of not going were melting rapidly.

"Huh… Keiko… look, I'll try to come. I could find time to peep in. Just don't wait for me, right?"

She hung up without waiting for her friend's answer, and gazed emptily at the large, rainy alleyways of the shopping centre. Well, why not, after all? It'd been a while since she hadn't seen anybody – except Akako and Saguru… her work was taking the upper hand upon her leisure… and the school was always nice on this period of the year, with Christmas approaching… anyway she wasn't finding anything here, was she?

-

"Aoko!" Keiko shouted as she was advancing in her high school's hall, shaking the snow away from her coat. "I'm so glad you came! It's been ages since I haven't seen you, too – you're always working. Everyone will be so happy!"

Keiko hadn't changed, Aoko thought, following her in the staircase. Hopping, exuberant and talkative. The school's buildings hadn't much changed either – only the paint on the walls and a few doors which didn't use to be where they were now. They advanced in the corridor, heading for their previous classroom, Keiko still talking.

"Everyone will be so happy you managed to come eventually! Akako and Saguru were waiting impatiently for you. And Kuroba…"

"Kaito?" Aoko stopped cold in front of their class' door. "He's here, too? I thought… you said…"

"Oh yeah, he didn't mean to come – but Miyoshi-kun went and fetched him when I told him you'd come. He didn't want to, but he brought him there anyway…" Keiko was beaming at her, convinced this was a delightful surprise. She had no idea Aoko had just been stabbed to the heart. He was there, just behind this door – and she wanted to flee.

"Wait…"

But Keiko opened the door and dragged her in before she could say anything more.

"Aoko!" about thirty people cheered as she dazzlingly gazed around, still confused. There was no escape now – they all surrounded her, talking and laughing loudly. There were some faces she didn't even remember – they did remember her of course. She was always in the papers.

She didn't even have to look – she knew he was there, in the back of the classroom, along with Akako and Saguru. Above everybody's voice, above everybody's presence, the voice and presence she sensed most of all was his and his only. After having been chasing him for a countless numbers of nights, that was only fair.

"So, Nakamori-san," a girl she vaguely recognised as a member of Kid's fan club, back in high school classes, "what is he like?

"Who?" she asked, still a little dizzy.

"Kid, of course! You fight him every night! You must know what he's like!"

Everyone was now earnestly waiting for her answer. She backed in the alley, towards Akako and Saguru, and ran into a chest–

"Sorry–"

"Careful–"

They stopped, confused. Aoko sat on a table for protection, trying not to look too strongly at Kaito as she answered.

"The thief's nothing special, really. He's just smug and arrogant; a self-concentrated criminal with a super-developed ego and a strong tendency to underestimate everybody else."

She saw Kaito's smile as he turned away and walked to the window. Then Akako and Saguru came to greet her, and, when she looked again, he was already somewhere else, talking with a guy whose name she didn't even remember.

She was still asked quite often about Kid and his heists from then on, but she refused to answer anything but that she would catch him one day or the other – until a very smart guy thought it clever to say noisily, "Yeah, your father used to say, too. Now he's dead because of Kid."

Kaito, Aoko remarked, repressed a twitching move of the hand, as though he'd wanted to grasp the guy's throat. "Let me show you an aikido hold they teach you at the police exam," she said very calmly, casting him a warning glance.

After that nobody bothered her about Kid anymore.

About half an hour after she'd arrived, Aoko sat, quite alone, by the window, thinking the last months over and over, when Hakuba startled her by joining in.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah… " she spared him a half-smile, rather forced. "I feel nostalgic, that's all. So many things happened in this class. We used to have a lot of fun here, all of us."

"The mop chases?" Saguru suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"Among other things," she admitted.

They fell into a long silence, until Hakuba began hesitantly, "About the other day, Aoko, we really didn't…"

"I know," Aoko cut in without looking at him. Her glance wandered on Keiko, who was going over an article about Kid in one corner of the classroom. "I was angry on the spot, but I understand now. Of course you couldn't tell me. I'm sorry I made a row in that restaurant, but all of this has just… lasted too long." She paused, then added, "I shouldn't have come today."

Hakuba sighed. "As a matter of fact, I didn't expect you to come. Is it Kuroba…"

"Hmm… well, I didn't want to meet him – not here. But I just think that coming back here…" she cast a panoramic gaze over the whole room, from the door to the blackboard, "after so much time, wasn't a good idea. What I mean is… when I see all of them," she nodded at the ex-students, excitedly rehearsing the small events of their scholarship together, "I feel that they're just adults pretending to be children again. It's kinda disgusting. They haven't understood that we _have_ changed, over the years, and just coming back to those days, be it only for a few hours, is impossible. I'm not the child I used to be – I've grown to like things and hate others – I can't simply pretend I haven't grown up. The teenage I was used to laugh naively at what happened to her. _I_ can't." She gave him a small, bitter smile. "I guess I'm not as innocent as I was back then."

"I think I see what you mean." Hakuba looked down. "In high school classes, my relationship towards you and Kuroba was… interested. I mean…" he looked up to meet her wide, blue gaze, "I said you were my type of girl because I knew you were a police officer's daughter, and therefore likely to become a police officer yourself, so that dating you would cause no disturbance in my own, small life. As for Kaito, well, he's Kid. I was only waiting for an opportunity to catch him. I didn't even consider him like a human being, rather like a winning prize."

Aoko opened her mouth.

Before she could say anything, however, a shrilling voice at the back of the classroom asked high-pitchedly, "What? Akako-chan, you're _pregnant_?"

"Oh, that _would_ happen," Hakuba groaned and, sliding off from the windowsill, went in rescue of his wife. Aoko followed him, though at a slower pace. She thought about all that had been said between them, everything they'd confessed although they had no idea why, him probably as much as herself. It was odd enough, but she felt as though a weigh was off her shoulders. Maybe, she thought as she joined the throng, because she knew she could rely on her friends at last.

As she arrived, the questions were at the 'Will it be a boy or a girl?' point. Akako was caressing her stomach and answering, "We don't know yet. It's only been three months."

"That's wonderful!" Keiko was piping.

"You'll have a hell of a time," Kaito, who was sitting on a table with his arm pityingly wrapped around Saguru's shoulders, commented.

"You must be very happy, both of you," Aoko congratulated them. An weird jolt at her stomach made her wince, though, as the Hakuba couple looked at one another with tenderness. Her high school friends were going to have a baby – they were married, well used to the couple life – while she'd strolled behind, keeping with her dreams.

"Who'll be the godfather and godmother?" she asked to hide her emotion.

"Well, we thought about that," Akako said seriously. "Obviously Lucifer and Lilith couldn't fit in. So we thought… Aoko, would you like to be the godmother?"

Aoko remained speechless for a few seconds – she had _not_ expected it, after all. "I'd love to," she said eventually, "but you know I work a lot. Do you think I'd suit the job anyways?"

"Of course you would," Saguru said. "Kuroba…" Aoko's stomach dropped a few inches as he said that – was she really _that_ stupid? "We thought about you for the godmother – godfather, I mean. Do you object?"

_Should have known_, Aoko and Kaito thought togther, but before he could answer he phone rang.

"Hello? Hi, Kudo-kun! … Fine. How's… Great. Why do you call? … Yeah, I'm home tonight… of course! a tantei's stories would be much appreciated. Same for Ran-chan's karate."

She laughed.

"I'm joking. … now? I'm on a high school reunion… No, you're not bothering… _don't_ worry, it's fine… what?" There was a pause. "Yeah, he's here, too."

Kaito looked at her from his table.

"What? can't you just call him? … right. Here." She handed the phone over to Kaito. "'Wants to talk to you."

He took the phone with an annoyed look, taking great care, she remarked, not to touch her. As the mere brushing of his fingers would have sent her heart racing, it was probably just as well.

"Kudo? What is it now? … what, tonight? Is this some kind of joke? … Hattori as well? … well, don't come crying afterwards. Her cooking's _terrible._ … Ha, ha! No. Right, see ya."

He handed the phone back and grabbed his bag.

"You're leaving, Kuroba?" a random guy asked.

"Yeah. I've got a lot of work tonight." He was grinning. Aoko looked up, frowning.

"Where is it you're working?"

"Hum…" he murmured thoughtfully, playing with her nerves as though they were puppets. "Well, there's the Beika museum…"

Aoko's eyes widened. "WHAT?"

"Bye, everyone!"

He opened the door.

And was effectively knocked away and against a desk by the man who dashed into the classroom then.

He wore long hair and a three-days old beard. And a very nice-looking gun in one hand. Aoko recognised him instantly. A photofit of his face was stuck on the walls of every police station in town. He was a drug dealer who'd recently escaped from jail. He'd already shot two people, one of whom had died in hospital. A dangerous guy, who'd found refuge in a high school, where no one could possibly arrest him…

He grabbed the wrist of the first weak-looking girl around him and pointed his gun at her, evidently meaning to use her as an hostage. Everyone was looking at them right now, so no one saw where had come from the ace of spades which suddenly flew his gun away; and afterwards no one cared to look. Anyone, he was weaponless now.

And unfortunately, the weak-looking hostage wasn't actually _that_ weak.

Well… nobody would dare teasing Aoko again after that. Her aikido holds really were terrible.

As the dealer lay snoring on the ground, she handcuffed him to a table before dialling a number on her cell. Hakuba, she remarked with amusement as the tone rang out in the earpiece, was stating the time of arrest from his pocket watch – old habits die hard.

"Hello… Miyoshi-san? yeah, it's me. You know that drug dealer… that's the one. Well, he's handcuffed too a table next to me. … if you could ask for some officers to be sent… thanks. I am…"

Everybody else was stone-struck, except for Akako, who was smiling broadly – being both a witch and Hakuba's wife must have compelled her to see worst things – and Kaito, as calm as Aoko was.

"As I said," he hoisted his bag back on his shoulder, "I'm leaving."

"Oh, and Miyoshi-san? Tell out men to get ready. I guess Kid will be on the move tonight."

-

"Aoko, did you and Kaito have an argument?"

"Why do you ask?" Aoko frowned. Keiko had called her on her way to work.

"Well, it was obvious you wouldn't talk to each other if you could avoid it."

Aoko stepped out of her car locked it, and went into the police station, nodding at the officers she met on her way to her desk. "We're kinda… fallen out with each other."

"I thought so," Keiko said on the other end, while she was settling at her computer and checking the e-mails. As expected, one of Kid was shining lightly on the plain background. Another enigma, without doubt.

"The two of you were talking and laughing as usual… but you also seemed lonelier."

-

**At **_**first**_**, this was supposed to be a mere high school reunion with a few jokes and some memories of mop chases. It turned out to be more angsty than I thought. Every one of those chapters turns out to be more angsty than I thought…**


	12. Vol

**Author's note: I don't own Kuroba Kaito (wish to…), not Nakamori Aoko, nor Kudo Shinichi, nor Mouri Ran, nor Hattori Heiji, nor Kazuha Toyama… still they all appear in this. **

**-**

**Vol**

**-**

Aoko stared down at the jewel in the case. In the semi-darkness of the room, it was sparkling its blue reflections onto her face. The sapphire wasn't as big as she'd thought it would – actually it was quite small. The blueness of it seemed as pure and innocent as a child's heart. As pure and innocent as hers had been, such a long time ago.

"Keibu!"

She pivoted on her heels. Miyoshi the assistant was entering the room, along with two unknown men and… Kudo Shinichi.

"Kudo," she said, surprised.

"Hello, Nakamori. Mind if I come in?"

"No, not at all… what are you doing here? Is Ran-chan…"

"Down on the first floor. Along with Kazuha-chan."

"Oh… so Hattori-kun's here too."

He laughed, and for the hundredth time, she realized how much he looked like Kaito. "Yeah… Hakuba couldn't make it. Neither could Kuroba."

'I wish,' she thought. "Who are those two?"

Miyoshi coughed and advanced. "Nakamori-keibu, allow me to introduce Akashi-san and Ueki-san. They were sent here by Megure-keibu…"

"Oh! Megure-keibu did such a thing?" That sounded suspect. Megure-keibu knew what she worth, and that she didn't need reinforcement to catch Kid. It was skill her assistants lacked of. But maybe those two were particularly talented... "I'll have to call him and say thanks…"

"No need, Nakamori-keibu," the Ueki man cut in rudely. He was dressed like a policeman and the cap prevented from seeing his face in full light, apart from his blue eyes. "Megure-keibu is on a case tonight. He won't want to be disturbed."

"Ueki-san," the second man said disapprovingly. "Please remember your position. You are not a tantei anymore."

Shinichi's eyes opened with more interest on Ueki-san. Akashi-san turned to Aoko.

"Nakamori-keibu? I am very pleased to meet you. I hope our association, along with the two detectives of West and East," a polite nod at Shinichi, "will allow us to capture the thief."

His way of speaking reminded her a little of Hakuba.

"Are you an inspector?"

"Yes. Ueki-san is… well… was an private eye, but he integrated the police a few months ago."

That means he's not yet much accustomed with the police ways, Aoko thought. That allows for his rudeness a moment ago. Except if it's a remarkably well-performed comedy. Her eyes turned to Akashi-san. And if _he_ is Kid, he takes a big risk in heading the way like this and talking to me. So now what I have to wonder is, which of them is the best disguise for Kid to be him?

Shinichi was consulting his watch. "There's still a hour and a half before Kid arrives. Don't you think we should talk before that?"

"Sure," Aoko agreed absently. "Go fetch the others and meet us in the police caravan parked down there."

"The girls too?"

"Yes. I'll need their perspective. … Akashi-san, would you come with m? Ueki-san, Miyoshi-san, I rely on you to keep the gem safe. I will be back shortly."

Ueki started, about to protest, but a rapid, authoritative glance from Akashi-san prevented him from going any further. Without more ado, all three left the room. Aoko shut the door behind her with a last look at Blue Child, thinking this might be the last time she saw it, until Kid returned it like he always did.

-

Later on, in the police caravan

"I _think_ that what we need to wonder now isn't how Kid intends to steal Blue Child," Heiji stated, with a short glance at Aoko, who listened to him with a serious frown, "whether he intends to steal it as Kid himself or under a disguise."

"I think you're right," she replied to his silent question. "What do you guys–"

"It would be easier for him to come under disguise," Shinichi said. "That's his favourite trick, with the number of policemen in the building. It would be kid's play to him."

Aoko smiled at the joke, but when their eyes met she knew he was thinking the same thing as she. Her eyes swept on Akashi-san, who sat at the other end of the table, quite silent. He returned the gaze without blushing, without apparent trouble.

"Yet, his handglider would be necessary to escape once he's stolen the jewel," Hattori said.

"Yeah, you're right."

"Then he should have to come under disguise then go away as the flying Kid, wouldn't he?" Kazuha remarked. She didn't show much enthusiasm and it was obvious she had only came to accompany Heiji. She wasn't much interested in Kid, she never had been. It had been refreshing to meet her as such.

"Okay," Aoko said quietly, "let's assume he _is _under disguise, and even that he's already in the building, mixing with the throng. But right now we need to know what his disguise is… and whether the message he sent would be of any use."

"Read it aloud," Akashi-san suggested with his tranquil voice.

"'_Messieurs les policiers, _

_Comme la nuit n'arrive jamais seule, _

_J'ai été charmé par l'innocence de l'enfant_

_Qui regarde la lune, une lueur d'espoir_

_Dans ses yeux bleus.'_

Now the translation may be:

'_Police gentlemen,_

_As night never comes alone, _

_I was charmed by the innocence of the child_

_Who looks up at the moon, a glimmer of hope_

_In its blue eyes._'

From this we had no great trouble deciphering what his aim was… even if I didn't want to believe it at first…"

"So why did he send it in French?" Akashi asked.

"That's what I wonder," Aoko said.

"What if it was a reference to Arsene Lupin?" Ran suggested. "That French thief is Kid's model, isn't he? Lupin's a master of disguise… Once he even faked himself as a police director. So the French message may mean that he _would_ come under a mask."

"I hadn't thought about that," Aoko nodded thoughtfully. "But then it only indicates us what we already know. What do you think, Akashi-san?"

Akashi stopped reading the message over and over and cracked his knuckles before answering. "I think Kid's already there. Yet to come in as a policeman is a risk – he already tried it so many times. No, it would be cleverer to disguise as _somebody else_."

"Then Kid is either up there in the jewel's room, waiting for his time to come, or right here, with us," Heiji said.

"In that case, the two easiest to be suspected are Ueki-san and myself," Akashi said. "We pretend to be sent by Megure-keibu, but there can be no evidence of this. And to say, 'No, I'm not Kid' can prove nothing. _But_ Kid's clever. My and Ueki-san's position are too risky for him. So I guess everyone here can be suspected, from the tanteis" he nodded respectfully at the two men, "to the girls… or…"

"Myself," Aoko added calmly. "I could be Kid pretending to be Nakamori Aoko. Now that's settled, it'll be easier."

-

"Akashi-san," Aoko asked as the two of them were climbing up the stairs to the jewel's room, "what do you know about Kid?"

Akashi gave a good moment's thought to this. "Only what the papers said about him. He looks like a fascinating character."

"Fascinating," Aoko grunted.

"But I wonder what his reason for this may be."

"What?"

He gave her a surprised look, then frowned. "Why, he must have a reason for doing this. I'm sure he's not stealing priceless jewels and giving them back the next day only for the fun of the thing."

"I thought like this, too."

"And what is your conclusion?

"That he's looking for one particular gem, although the reason for this I ignore."

"Hum… great minds do think alike." He grinned at her. They reached the door. Inside the room was only Ueki.

"Ueki-san?" Aoko frowned. "Where's Miyoshi-san?"

"He was called back to the cameras' room."

"And you stayed here alone?"

"You told me to survey the jewel, didn't you?"

Aoko didn't bother about replying. She dashed to the case and inspected the jewel. As far as she could tell through the thick glass, it wasn't a fake. She checked on the vitrin. It hadn't moved, it looked solid.

"Does she suspect _me_?" Ueki asked, quite loudly, to Akashi.

"In such a case everyone has got to be suspected… you, me, her closest friends… herself."

"_Fine,_" Ueki said, and stalked over to the window.

"I apologize for my colleague's rudeness," Akashi told Aoko. "He's not–"

"… accustomed with the police's ways, I understand," Aoko said. "I apologize myself for suspecting him so hastily. You can understand I was worried."

"Certainly. I feel the same. It's–"

He couldn't finish his sentence – a great BANG! echoed from nowhere. Or else, from a place where there should be nothing. They all looked up at the ceiling where nothing was to be seen, and Aoko, in one panoramic glance around the room, caught the sight of a small remote in Ueki's hand for the split second before twenty policemen invaded the room.

"Keibu, what happened?" she heard her assistant shout at her above the din but right then a very familiar voice resounded through the room, cutting every other sound off.

"Looking for someone, gentlemen?"

Oh, that sarcastic tone…

Akashi-san, she noticed, was staring with unbelieving eyes at the place where Ueki-san had stood a moment before and Kid was now playing with Blue Child. He didn't say anything more as he stepped over the window's frame and grinned at them before flying away.

"Down!" Aoko shouted at her men who instantly obeyed her and rushed to the door. Two seconds later the room was empty.

Well, it almost was.

Akashi-san grinned fro himself as he approached the case, where, like nobody had ever cared about checking, the real Blue Child still stood.

"That was well-performed," he said in a much younger voice. His experienced hands cut a perfect a perfect circle in the glass and took the gem away. It sparkled and shone, streaming with blue reflects, as though rejoicing in being freed from its glass' prison. "Funny how those police people are _always_ fooled by the same tricks."

He slowly came out of the room and listened carefully at the sounds in the staircase. Then he peacefully climbed it up, heading for the roof as always.

There was someone waiting for him there.

She was sitting, legs crossed, on the edge of the roof. As he came out in the open, his eyes instantly focusing on her, she stood up, smirking at him. "You made me wait quite a while, _Kid l'insaisissable,_" she mimicked.

Kaito was quite startled but Kid's face showed nothing of it. "You were waiting for me?"

"Oh, yeah, you really thought I was fooled by this little masquerade from _Ueki-san_?" She laughed joylessly. "I'm no fool."

"Glad to know. So you had guessed it was me from the beginning?"

"Sorry to contradict what you said, but I couldn't suspect _everyone_. Neither Shinichi and Ran, nor Heiji and Kazuha, could really be suspected; because if Kid – sorry, if you had taken the place of one of them, his/her mate would have remarked it inevitably. You may fool friendship's eyes, but not love's. So the logical conclusion was that Kid was either Akashi-san – that means you – or Ueki-san, whatever his real name is."

"And how did you make out it was me?"

"That was simple. Akashi-san and Ueki-san knew each other, so it implied that either the both of them were truthful (which I therefore knew couldn't be), or the two of them were fake." She then grinned a little, and looked quite like Aoko, not Nakamori-keibu. "Knowing Kid to be the biggest smug I ever met, he wouldn't take the place of a foil. So it had to be you."

Kid applauded carefully. "What a splendid reasoning. _But_," he took blue Child out of his pocket, "it didn't prevent me from stealing this jewel."

That was what Aoko had been waiting for, the moment when he would have the gem in his hand. "No," she said. "It didn't."

And she jumped from the roof.

She saw a mixed look of surprise and horror slipping Poker Face away for an instant before seeing nothing at all.

She felt the lights blurred in her half-shaded sight, the air brushing against her skin, the wind in her hair – the fall in her lungs – and then the strong contact of two arms around her shoulders and waist, before she was hoisted back up in the air and against his chest.

She was flying…

He was holding her tightly, as though afraid she might fall back, and when she looked up she only saw Poker Face again – but his hands were trembling.

They were flying – her black police suit against his white tux.

It all ended too soon, as he lowered her to her feet on a nearby roof and landed himself on the edge of it, his cloak coming back to its original shape and shaking against him.

"You're mad," he said.

She couldn't help smiling. "Have to be. I've been chasing you almost every night for nearly a year."

He smirked. "That's right." He looked at the opposite roof, where they had been standing but two minutes ago, a little below the one where they were now. "So that was what you were trying to do… make me drop the jewel as I was going to save you."

"So it was," Aoko said. On the other roof, four people were waving at them. She waved back. "Now the gem will return to its rightful owners."

"And what if I had let you fall and kept the jewel."

He didn't mean that and they both knew it. But he was waiting for an answer. His smile was gone, replaced by a more serious expression. And Aoko gazed straight into those deep blue eyes of his, which had always bewitched her.

"Well, your model would never have done such a thing," she said softly. "Arsene Lupin was a gentleman thief, after all."

He grinned at her – perhaps a bit more tenderly than usual. "You probably think I missed my aim.

"I do." She looked at him with curiosity.

"Do you know why I wrote my message in French? I mean, apart from that Arsene-Lupin-master-of-disguise stuff…" he waved that away, "it's because in French to steal is said 'voler', which, incidentally, also means to fly."

Aoko frowned. "So…"

"So what was really my aim, I wonder? _Voler_ a blue child, or teaching a blue child _à voler_? I don't know myself, really. Well… I'll let you reflect on this…" His white cloak changed itself into a handglider again, and he turned to leave. Aoko watched him, dumbfounded. She wasn't sure she'd really understood what he'd just say.

"Still," he added, thoughtfully, just before he flew off and she didn't try to stop him from going, "I wish it was an agreeable feeling to remember…"

-

**So? What do you think, uh? There aren't a lot of chapters left… about seven or eight… but the End is already written!**

**By the way, 'Kid l'insaisissable' is how they translated 'Kaito Kid' in France…**


	13. Watching Her

**Author's note: I know, it's been ages. So, I'm updating! More angst! I hope you're all very happy. Still, it won't be much longer anymore. That is, I hope (since the rule for updating this seems to become of once a month. I keep trying).**

**Back to Kaito's POV! and in the present tense, which isn't something I usually do. Only a part's in the past tense, and that's a flashback. Well, I'll let you find out!**

**I still don't own anything. It's not very likely this should ever change.**

**-**

**Watching her**

**-**

It's been a long night. It's been like a Venetian masquerade – catches and escapes nearly colliding, curses and mockeries playfully exchanged under our respective masks – my clown smile, and her job-acuteness. The game tonight has been simple, like it always is – I steal the jewel. She tries to rescue it. And this go on, while the moon, overhead, laughs at us and at our attempts to elude each other.

So yes, it's been a long night. And I don't think it at all likely that it should ever come to a finish.

We're just drowning ourselves into it, hopeful that it should make us forget everything – let ourselves be wrecked in this peculiar game, full of curses and fears, endless pursuits following one another, and we're not able to get out of the maze anymore. We're trapped. Usually I was the one who tricked, but she's tricked me on more than anybody else ever did. What's funny is that she doesn't even know it… she doesn't even know the effect her glowering blue eyes have on me, nor how much I feel about the dance we're both leading.

It reminds me of Victorian dances – you can see them in old films, and I remember she was very fond of them. Pulled me into watching them with her. She used to laugh back then about it; she would never have imagined we should one day undergo the same moves with one another – facing and turning, smiling and crying, loving and hating.

Parting and meeting and parting again.

I land on the balcony. The wind flaps my cloak sideways when my feet touch the floor, but I don't care. She's here, already back from the heist and from all the paperwork it necessary involves – there's light on the other side of the flinging curtain, and through its warm glow I can see her moving about, probably fixing some dinner. She must feel exhausted after the chase we've had… she's tough, though. But even I can feel weariness in every one of my limbs, attacking every time I move.

Still, more than the physical pain, it's probably being so close to her that hurts most. So close to her… and yet if I entered the living-room (and the open window does look like an invitation) she'd be after me in no time. With either a mop or her gun. Which is worse, I can't say.

I miss her… In two strides I could take her in my arms, and keep her there forever. But there's no way I can do that now. Maybe we just grew too old, and we don't believe in fairy tales anymore. Still, I do miss her…

But I just sit here, on the railing of her balcony, and watch the golden light of her lamp illuminate the curtain in the total darkness of the windy outside, while she passes and repasses listlessly, then finnaly settles at the table and moves no more.

And this warm glow, bringing heat to my cheeks even though it's very cold (November night), reminds me of a sunset I watched once, and of words which were spoken then. It happened less than a year ago, but I feel like it's already been something like a lifetime…

-

_The sun was definitely sinking in a sea-sky of golden and white. It had now reached the top of the clock rower-s spire, like a copper-coloured orb on top of a thin, dark spike, which pierced through it and let it escape a flood of bright silvery light, flowing over a paramount of clouds. No sound came to break this sight but the slight, irregular creaking of the swing I was sitting on, as if Tokyo itself was keeping a religious silence for this day about to disappear in the endlessness of this falling night… _

_Right. Always the romantic soul when not clown-acting, I'm incurable. _

_I leant against the swing's rope, listening to the soft creaking over my head and half-closing my eyes upon the square facing the clock tower. The dying sun was glimmering on the cobbles, where, years ago, a little boy offered a little girl a rose… _

_Arrgh. Stop thinking about this. Don't let those ghosts invade your eye-sight… because if they do, you won't be able to sleep tonight. They're in the past. They're gone. Yeah, way gone now. _

_Way gone… _

"_Kuroba," a voice said behind me, and it came out so abruptly that had I not recognised the unmistakable tone of one half-brit Hakuba Saguru – in all the fullness of his pompous English accent, I might even have turned around. This being not the case, I merely cocked my head towards him, feeling Poker Face fall slowly into place while he seated himself on the swing beside mine. _

"_So," I said lightly, in a perfect rehearsal of our long-past high school quarrels, "you're back, aren't you?" _

"_Only temporarily," he said grumpily. "In fact," consulting his faithful waist-pocket watch, "we shall be departing again in forty-six minutes, twenty-two seconds." _

_I grinned. Whatever his other defects may be (conceit and self-arrogance, among others), Hakuba's punctuality was always highly reliable. If he said he would be departing in forty-six minutes, twenty-two seconds, then so he would, no matter what. _

"_And what brings you here?" Poker face, full mode. "High school remembrance-courtesy?"_

_He gave me one of his sharp don't-give-me-that-shit look (one of those he always hits murderers with when he asks them his famous question, 'can you tell me WHY you have committed that crime?' I hate 'em). "As if you didn't know."_

"_Pray tell me." Poker Face held on. But it was getting more and more difficult to keep it on._

"_We saw Aoko in the street." He scanned my face, obviously hoping for some kind of breakdown at the sound of her name. But received nothing. "She looked… worn-out. Put-upon. I'm sure you know what that means." _

'_Course I do. My feelings exactly._

"_And I linked that with this." He unfolded a paper before my eyes. Headlines in English. Seems that Koizumi and he had been in Europe lately… Column: 'Daughter of late Nakamori-keibu takes after her father! – in more ways than one.' And a picture of Aoko, shouting at her men. Oh, yes, I knew this case. It wasn't that long ago._

_Hakuba said nothing all the while I was flicking through the newspaper. But when I shoved it back in his hands, he appeared to lose a little of his British self-control. That is, the only way he could – some little colour flushed his so-pale cheeks and he said eagerly, "I take it you've told her everything?"_

_Never befriend detectives. They read your mind. Really, they do._

"_Yes."_

"_And how did she take it?"_

_As if _you _didn't know. "As expected."_

_He looked away. I looked back at the clock tower. The sun sunk on. _

"_You're a fool." I glanced sharply at him. He deadpanned me with his usual cold stare. "You know you are. You should have foreseen she'd react that way, since she's always hated Kid. I just hope she hasn't suffered too much because of you." Which was a way to say, Of course she has. He was evidently thinking sometime or other I'd finally give up and bring down my defences… and, by Jove, he was right. Poker Face held by nothing but an eyelash._

"_Besides, you don't deserve her in the least. She's a very good girl, and you're a criminal."_

_Poker Face crumpled. I'm not actually sure it made a sound; though I did hear it – like glass crackling all the way down and shattering – but the fact is that he glanced at me again, looking stricken._

"_I know that.' He opened his mouth. But found nothing to say. "I knew it from the beginning. I knew I had nothing to do with her the day I took up the mask – or, rather, the monocle. She _is_ a very good sort of girl – temperamental but straightforward – and I've been selfish enough to deserve all of her reproaches."_

_His mouth closed and opened again like a – urg – fish. He might have expected a breakdown, but not a confession. He should have known. At last, he recovered enough of his proverbial impassivity to reply, though with difficulty, "Selfish? But you did it for her– or, at least, that's what I thought I'd understood," he added dryly, finally keeping his self-control in check. "Didn't you try to protect us, as well as your mother… as well as us?"_

_I nodded but didn't look back at him. I could feel my lips curl all by themselves in a contemptuous smile – the kind of one my mirror flashes back at me when I'm not aware, I'm sure. "Yeah. Right. Easy words, uh?" I said, and felt Hakuba start. I went on. "As easily uttered as easily believed when you really want to… like I did for a long time. Until I realized I couldn't fail to tell her." My mouth shot closed automatically since I couldn't help remembering the way she looked and talked that night, the glint of understood betrayal more than acute in her eyes._

_I pulled on my feet and rose high into the golden-shaded sky, feeling the same pinch in falling back to the heart as there always is when I take up flight on my handglider. My eyes glided up and down upon the clock tower, then turned back on Hakuba's, exactly the same colour as the clouds overhead – a sharp, sad gold, piercing through me like I was only a thin surface of looking-glass._

"_I thought that way for a long time. Always the good guy, the showman – 'I wanted to protect you, I did all that fro you…' even if I had said those to her, she wouldn't have believed them. And she would have been right – it was me I was trying to protect, much more than any of you."_

_He started again. Just a little jerk of the head as he turned to look at me fully. And I knew what he thought – and my next words were close to an apology._

"_I lost my father when I was very young," I said, deciding for once to follow Kudo-kun's advice and tell the one whole truth. "I loved him very much. And when I took up the mask it was like… getting to see him again. Every time I'm in the midst of a heist, I almost expect him to come by with his amused grin, ruffle my hair and say, 'not bad. You've got some more to learn though.' … and then every time I realise he's gone forever. It's like seeing him…"_

_I stopped swinging and leant backwards, watching the sun gradually disappear behind the clock tower. Its light was beginning to fade and darken. The cobbles on the square were grey already._

"… _die every night."_

_I don't think I've ever told anyone such things. And I'm not sure Hakuba really believed them, either._

"_Every time I take off the mask, he's going away."_

_My feet racked against the sand, calling me back to reality. "And so," I added with a great yawn and a stretch, "my little selfish me decided he couldn't see anyone else die whom he loved. Simply because it would hurt too much. Especially if it was Aoko."_

"_Then…"_

"_Then – do you understand? Protecting her was a way to protect me, to protect my own hurt feelings. I never thought she might want to be by my side, might want to help me – especially since, if those black people discovered who I am, she would be killed anyway, simply because she was my best friend."_

_I fell back into silence. Hakuba did not so much as stir. I knew that next time we'd meet, things would all be back to normal – that I'd mock, and he'd scowl, like we've always done, and that we'd never be so close as we are now. This was the paramount of our friendship/rivalry, and from then on we'd never reach such trust in each other to be able to make confessions. Eventually we'd be back at the high school relationship we used to have, I suppose._

_Not a word more was spoken. The sun had nearly disappeared behind the skyline buildings. And all the gold of what had been a shiny afternoon resolved to a thin line in the horizon, which finally came to vanish, leaving the night settle in onto the park and the clock tower._

_-_

Nothing moves in her living-room anymore. It's probably been quite a while, but I didn't realize – I was too busy drowning myself in my memories. Freaking memories they were – I shouldn't let myself go gloomy like that.

The window's not closed. Even if it was, I wouldn't have had any problem coming in… as I do now. Aoko's sitting at the table, her head buried in her folded arms. Her eyes are closed. She really, really looks like she's asleep – unless it's all a booby-trap, but I doubt it. I can see dried tears on her cheeks.

She groans a little when I take her in my arms – she's definitely asleep. If she wasn't, she would already be struggling free and threatening me with her gun. God, she's not heavy in the least. I don't think she eats much. Nor sleeps, for that matter.

I carry her over to the couch. Her face instantly relaxes when her head lies upon a cushion. I flap a blanket over her body, then keel beside the couch.

She looks so beautiful and fragile. I know she's not – fragile, I mean. She's never been weak, not even when she was faced with me. Tonight as well, she deadpanned me with her usual coldness, just like she always does. Just like her father did. We only had time enough to exchange a few pleasantries before I escaped, but that's enough to me. I'm satisfied with that deformed reflection of our high-school quarrels.

But when she's all alone in her flat, I suppose she feels exactly as lonesome as I do, when I'm in mine.

A lock of dark-brown hair has gone astray on her nose, bothering her sleep. I push it away, and caress her cheek in the same gesture. Her skin's soft and cold. She sighs a little, as innocent as she used to be at seventeen. As innocent as she should always have remained, had it not been for me.

I know I should leave – I'll be in _big_ trouble if I fall asleep and she wakes up to find me here, in my kid tux. I should be leaving already. But I just can't seem to be able to stop watching her.

-

**Not the average Kaito, uh? He's darker than usual in this. What I'm trying to show is that maybe that's what he's been hiding all the time through this story… or maybe not. Maybe I'm completely mistaking his character. Whatever.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the angst! 'Till next time!**


	14. Christmas Eve Is Already Cold

**Author's note: (return of an author physically and mentally drained by having **_**nearly**_** succeeded in posting twelve fanfics in a row – exhausting. I'm not dead, thank you.) The ownies are all Gosho Aoyama's. Nah, don't cry. I know how you feel. –sniffles-**

**-**

**Christmas Eve Is Already Cold (because I was bored and didn't want to find a fancy title for that one.)**

**-**

"_Where was I, last year? What was I doing? Was it fun? Whom was I with?_

"_Funny I just can't seem to remember."_

As if that last long year had wiped away everything that was her life before, and she stayed sitting here, unable to stop drinking, unable to stop thinking about them damn _consequences_. It would be so, so much easier to sleep.

"_God, I hate Christmas Eve."_

The living room was a greyish darkness, flickers of light entering through the window, speaking of moonlight the clouds didn't let in. They were all revolving around the table where she sat, slumped in her chair, fingers tightened around her half-empty glass. Bangs of dark hair were falling light on her face, but she didn't make any move to blow them away.

Her presents – for her friends, for her colleagues; she didn't have any family left to offer presents to by now – were wrapped up, the cards signed, all of them piled up in a corner, right there by the couch, in her field of sight. She gave them a Look.

_There had been a Christmas tree there, last year. A Christmas tree with a lot of tinsels and lights. She remembered she had not been alone to trim it._

She lifted her glass to her lips. Alcohol was good when it came to forgetting, forgetting what she had already forgotten. She liked the taste of it, soft and short, a little fruity, but behind the appearance it knocked you down. Fortunate she bore it well enough…

The silence was broken by the alarm clock suddenly ringing the hour. It was night already – the greenish numbers on the black screen showed 8 p.m.

_At that time of the evening, last year, everyone had been laughing around the table, munching on her cookies and drinking champagne. She could see the radiant smiles of her friends, she could hear the joyful tune of music ringing loud and clear from the radio._

At least Kid hadn't planned any heist tonight… it was cold outside. To have to chase him over rooftops and rooftops in the night, on such an evening, would hardly represent a Christmas Eve to any of her officers. Of course it would have been dreadful. Just as dreadful, she thought, as staying alone in an empty flat.

There were no lights, no laughs, no warmth. That was what she needed. Warmth.

_She delighted in the looks of wonder and glee on the faces of her guest as they all gathered under the Christmas tree to open presents. Heiji-kun and Kazuha-chan were arguing – again – over which of them would open their gift first…_

She shivered. She didn't need that, those memories – they only made her emptier when reality came back, blunt, harsh, colder than the illusion. An illusion was doomed to fade, wasn't it? But that one kept coming back and back.

One year.

One quick, small year, and the lights and the laughs had given way to loneliness and to silence. Nothing much had happened, though – just an evening, no, ten minutes in her moonlit sitting-room, some months away in the past already, and it had overwhelmed everything. It had crashed everything to the ground and left her to pick back the pieces. And reassemble them, as much as she could, so that it would at least _look_ like reality.

She finished her glass and refilled it. Thoughtfully, she lifted it to her lips, and the bitter taste of alcohol running down her throat brought back more, more memories to drown herself in.

_She had even received a card of Saguru-kun and Akako-chan, God knew how they'd found a way to send it. She'd remarked Ran-chan and Shinichi-kun were holding hands, and she'd even envied them a little…_

She looked over to the window. Snow was beginning to fall, silently.

Great, white Christmas. As if she needed this. As if she needed those many more memories to remember, and more alcohol to forget. She didn't need this. She didn't need to remember, and when that would be fulfilled, she wouldn't need to forget either. It would be best that way.

She refilled her glass once more.

_The door had opened and Kaito had come in, walking in without knocking like he was used to do, brushing the snow away from his jacket and boots. Everyone had cheered when he had entered the sitting-room, throwing confetti at the whole lot of them._

Please, Aoko prayed silently. Please don't let me remember what happened next. Please.

It was awful remembering him as the joyful, careless teenage he had been, with his laughs and his tricks, and the way he dodged from her mop after he'd flapped up her skirt, and then to know that in a few days there would be a notice card on her desk when she'd arrive to work, and she'd meet him again in that white phantom-like tuxedo of his, staring into his mask of glass that didn't as much as blink when his eyes connected with hers.

_There had been laughs and there had been music… and with Kaito arrived there was nothing missing._

"_Merry Christmas," she'd heard in her ear as midnight rang, and then there'd been the big, warm hug Kaito had wrapped around her from behind, pressing his chest against her back, making the two of them blush furiously._

Aoko – the Aoko from one year later – buried her face in her folded arms.

"_Merry Christmas…"_ His voice still seemed to be fading away in the emptiness and the darkness surrounding. And she went on building up walls and barriers around her living-room, barriers like she'd learned to build the whole of this year – feelings overwhelmed, emotions shut up, needs and urges controlled in a way that could leave her no way to escape them one day – barriers so high she couldn't cross them again alone.

"Stop it," she said, but her voice was hoarse and toneless. "Stop it – stop interfering into my life, for goodness' sake!"

That was when the doorbell rang.

She startled, her eyes suddenly wide and afraid. It took her a little while to realise what exactly had occurred, and she had to uncurl her fingers from around her glass – they had crisped around it instinctively. She stood up. Her knees were weak at the joints.

The bell rang out once more.

She walked into the corridor and up to the door, her socks silently slipping on the parquet. "Who is it?" she asked out loud – no answer. She unlocked the door and opened it an inch. No one. She opened it wider.

Apart from a small box, standing there as innocently as if it had always been meant to be there, the landing was empty. When she stepped outside, the wind blew snowflakes at her, and chilled the bare skin of her arms. She shivered, stooping.

It was a square-shaped box, wrapped in red and green, brilliant gift paper. There was no card, nothing to indicate the expeditor, only her name, written in caps. She tore the paper off and opened the box, cautiously.

A jewel sparkled up at her. Bewildered, she picked it up prudently. By the sight of how the facets sent off the faint light of the night, it was a real one, not a fake. In fact, it was the precise gem she'd spent chief of the evening before surveying, only too see it snatched away from under her very eyes.

A Christmas card laid beneath it. She opened it.

_-Dear Nakamori-keibu, it said,_

_What an incredible period is Christmas!_

_The lights are diffuse by the end of the day_

_Snow is falling, and one can even find_

_A jewel at one's doorway._

_-Kaito Kid-_

_p.s. The scarf is for the cold. Don't worry, the cookies are not poisoned._

She dug into the box, and, sure enough, there was a scarf – white, of course (what else?) – and a small bag of cookies. She chuckled, almost despite herself. Had he cooked these alone? He'd always been a terrible cook.

_Crunch_.

There had been a _crunch. _Hadn't there? Just now. Down.

She grabbed the metal railing to get to her feet and looked _down._ There was a dark figure there, standing in the snow; head lifted up to the first floor. To _her_ first floor. She couldn't discern his features, but that was probably because he didn't want her to see them.

She didn't care to think. She flung the scarf around her neck instinctively, and ran down the metallic stairs to the snow-littered ground, approaching him in a hurried, flustered way. He didn't move nor stepped away; he stayed exactly where he was even when she was close enough to look up at his face and whisper words he wouldn't be able to escape hearing.

She was silent, however. The animation from a second before had given way to sudden and unexpected calm. She stared up at him, into the blue eyes looking deep into hers, into that mask she all knew too well, and she even felt her heart sink at the idea that he wouldn't let her see the friend she used to know, that he could only be Kaito Kid to her from now on, Christmas present or no Christmas present – that there would only be masks.

Snow fell on, indifferently. The sky was black overhead; there were dark clouds roaming over the illuminated town. Not much sound. A motorbike roaring in the background, some streets afar. Mingled jingles of stores in the shopping avenues. Their own rapid, short breathing. It could go on and on endlessly.

Then, so rapidly she was too surprised to react (or maybe he wasn't that swift at all, and it was only the sudden move, after their stillness, that caught her off-guard), he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged her close, murmuring in her ear in a elusive way, "Merry Christmas."

Tears came up again in her eyes, and she couldn't wipe them away because her hands were imprisoned against his chest. A moment of silence again, and then his embrace was gone, he was gone, and she was standing all alone in the snow swirling and whirling around her. And it could very well have all been a dream, for all she knew, had there not been his voice still echoing in her ears, "_Merry Christmas."_

She walked back inside, with her scarf and her cookies, and hoped again she would find some warmth in her deserted flat, even in her glass of alcohol, but after the strong prison of his arms pressing her against him everything else was cold.

She munched on a cookie. There seemed to be nothing better to do.

-

**Post-Christmas angst – sorry. I just felt like writing it. I guess.**

**(Reviews are always very much appreciated ')**


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